Stygian Fire
by GreenFrisbee1
Summary: Izuku's Quirk manifest at the tender age of five. It's strange that he would have a fire Quirk given what his mother's Quirk is, but he chalks it up to genetics on his father's side. A week later, there's a (familiar) stranger in the kitchen, and everything changes.
1. Chapter 1

**I should be alseep. It's fucking 12 AM and I've somehow crammed this out in less than a week motherfuck I need a nap.**

 **School: You got exams next week, hope you prepared-**

 **Me: I wrote fanfiction.**

 **School: Wait no-!**

 **Me: I wrote _10k_ of fanfiction. In three days.**

 **School: You** **absolute** **problem child.**

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 **Warning: This story contains the pairing BakugoxIzuku. If you're not okay with same sex couples in your stories, then don't read this. Thank you!**

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Izuku never asks about his father.

He lives far away, his mother tells him in those rare moments they sit curled up together on the couch, drinking tea and watching a news section on All Might. He works a lot, he works abroad, he is very driven, he is busy-

Excuses, excuses.

But he doesn't try to refute her claims. Maybe it's the soft, wistful way she talks, or the sad gleam in her eyes -Izuku chooses not to press. He just accepts it, nods thoughtfully and distracts his mother by trying to play the All Might documentary they'd already watched a thousand times. Early on he learns that it's too much of a sensitive topic to approach for his mother, much like how Kacchan sneered and stomped his feet every time the incident with the log and the river was mentioned.

It's just another of those things he never dares to ask.

But that didn't mean he doesn't _wonder_.

Inko is a nurse. As good as she is and as stable as her work was, her measly salary wouldn't have been enough to maintain their two-story house in the suburbs, or pay all of Izuku's school needs in one go at the start of each semester. The boy is only six, but he already knows that something that wasn't adding up.

He's five when it happens.

Kacchan's Quirk stings against his skin. Izuku bends his head low and keeps it tucked behind his arm. It's a move learned from experience, shielding his face and chest from the barrage of small explosions. Yelping in pain at the heat licking at his arms, the green haired boy stumbles and falls over on his ass, yelping at the roughness of the sand against his skin.

Shakily, Izuku looks behind him. The kid that he'd stepped in front of had long run off, leaving him to deal with the explosive blond and his two sidekicks by himself. A small part of Izuku feels disappointed by the lack of solidarity from his classmate, but he doesn't blame him.

Given the thunderous expression on Kacchan, he'd run too if given the chance. The other boy looks almost feral when he shouts:

"Come on, you're not even a challenge anymore!" Katsuki informs him as he towers over his downed form. "If you're gonna step in, at least make a effort, _Deku_!"

 _Where are the teachers?!_ Izuku thinks a tiny bit hysterically, looking around. They were in a corner of the school yard, but they were still within eye distance of the two teachers. A quick glance at the school yard entrance told them they were milling around, taking care of the youngest kids. _Oh, oh great._

Figures they were completely ignoring the trio of students tormenting another. It was happening with enough consistency that Izuku was starting to think they were doing it on purpose...that or Kacchan was timing his attacks precisely when they were busy.

Izuku wouldn't put it past him. His friend -was he one at this point- was pretty crafty when he wanted to.

The reminder makes Izuku bites back the tears. How did his relationship with Kacchan become this? As the older boy continues to shout in his face, Izuku closes his eyes and tries not to grimace. Knowing the other boy, without any sort of push back Kacchan was going tired of pushing him around and leave. Izuku just needed to bear it until then.

Still...why couldn't he have a Quirk? Kacchan had become more and more annoyed and aggressive with him ever since word of his diagnostic got out.

A explosion goes off in front of him, making him gasp sharply.

"Hey! I'm talking to you, or are your ears useless too?!" Katsuki growled, bumping his fists together to create another series of explosions. Too close, the fire from the blasts lick at Izuku's skin and makes him cry out fearfully.

Several things happened at once.

A weight he wasn't aware of snapped in his chest and suddenly Izuku feels hollow, like someone had taken a knife to his heart and carved out a space in his ribcage. He can't pause to contemplate this sensation however, as he hears Katsuki let a startled yell.

Izuku opens his eyes.

For a moment, the boy is unsure of what he sees. There's something standing there between himself and Kacchan, who had fallen on his back and now was staring at the object of the interruption with wide red eyes. Both his accolades had backed off, scared into a stupor.

There a small fire, drawing a line between the two boys.

Or at least, that's what Izuku thinks it is. Because instead of orange or red, the flames were a deep, smooth black, faintly peppered with white and purple hues. It twists and dances, licking at the ground yet not spreading any further from the initial line.

 _How…?_ The green haired boy breathes out gently, his chest feeling tighter and tighter the longer he gaped at the small bonfire keeping him separate from his fiery friend. It's Katsuki who speaks up, rising to his feet. When he speaks, he sounds dazed:

"Did you do that?" Izuku can't speak but he nods shakedly, unable to look away from the strange flames. Kacchan lets out a sharp breath. "Then it's-"

"My Quirk." Izuku breathes, excited. He feels a bit lightheaded, and there's a vacant sensation in his chest he can't explain. "I got my Quirk." He thinks he should be screaming, but he doesn't have enough oxygen in his lungs for it. He goes to stand up, but he feels shaky. Unbalanced. Lightheaded.

Of all things, it's a _fire_ Quirk.

He should be happy. He should. Elemental Quirks were rare, flashy and highly prized. And it looks awesome and it is unique, perfect for hero work... but he can't help but feel troubled.

Because from what he'd read, this Quirk manifesting for him didn't make sense. It didn't match with his mom's ability to pull things towards her. Izuku had devoured enough books on Quirk to know that. A mind-based Quirk couldn't create a elemental Quirk, not unless it was a severe mutation...or the other parent had a similar Quirk to his own.

His thought process screeches to a halt.

Didn't...didn't his mom mention one time that his father could breathe fire?

So it comes from my dad! He thinks, the tension in his muscles easing at the realization. Still, how did a fire Quirk and a telekinesis Quirk make black flames?

 _They don't feel warm either,_ he wonders as he steps closer to the tiny kitten flames, which had now curled into a small bonfire. Instead of warmth however, he feels only a certain coolness emanating from the flames. _It's not normal fire, but shouldn't it as least burn?_

Tentatively, he reaches out to touch the fire with the tip of his fingers. Kacchan jolts at his side, ruby eyes widening. When he speaks, all of the previous frustrated anger in his tone is gone, replaced by mild panic and irritation. "Wait, Deku you moron don't-"

He reaches to yank his arm away, but he's not fast enough.

The green haired boy's hand goes right into the obsidian flames, unhurt. Katsuki goes abruptly silent, hand falling back to his side. The smaller boy doesn't pay him attention, too caught up with the sensation of fire dancing around his fingers, licking at them.

Izuku lets out a wheezing, giggling breath. _Holy crap, I was right._ His fingers wiggle experimentally.

It's not cold, nor warm. It just _is_.

So of course seeing his success, Kacchan tries to upstage him by sticking his entire hand into the fire.

"Argh!" His fingers are not even close enough to touch that the blond stumbles back into a yelp, clutching his right hand. "Dammit, that hurt!"

"Kacchan!" Izuku steps away from his creation, reaching out for the injured limb. Katsuki's skin was a bit red, thankfully the damage didn't seem that bad considering the burns his Explosion Quirk caused on a daily basis. "You're-"

"I'm _fine_!" Kacchan hisses but he's not, Izuku could see the corner of his red eyes were slightly wet. "It barely hurt, you dumb moron. Your fire ain't that strong."

"I'll call the teach-"

"Don't! I'm fine, you dumb weakling!" The older boy flails, voice rising to a screech.

Izuku glowers. "If I'm dumb," He starts slowly, then his voice rises. "...then why did you try to stick your hand inside?"

Kacchan squints, lips pursed. "You did it first." He accuses.

"Yeah, but it's my fire!" Izuku retorts with a pout. He knows it's not a logical argument, but it worked, didn't it?

"What does that even mean, Deku?!" Kacchan stomps his feet. "Fire is fire, you'd get burn either way!"

 _Why would you care?_ "But I didn't, did I?" Izuku retorts, more confident than ever. Surprisingly, his friend doesn't blow up at him. Instead Kacchan just scowls, crossing his arms and turning his head away.

It's then that Izuku notices a important detail.

Hfire wasn't dying out. It just stood there, not getting bigger or smaller. Flickering and twisting in the breeze, the sand under it slowly growing darker as it melted into a opaque substance. Izuku watches fascinated as glass bubbles pop and fizzle under the spectral fire.

"How is it even burning?" He mutters, ignoring how Kacchan tilts his head at him. He bows closer to the fire, feeling the faintest warmth emanating from the obsidian blaze. "There's no kindle, the sand's melting but that's not possible unless the temperature is really high...but its doesn't feel warm at all? How is it sustaining itself?"Did he just make a fire that breaks _physics_?!

Izuku's head hurt trying to figure it out. He's confused. Fire didn't do that, and it shouldn't be able to sustain itself without proper fuel, which the sand was not. He looks down at his hands in wonder, recalling the strange sensation that washed over him when the fire manifested.

Was he sustaining it, somehow? It would explain the fire's survival despite the lack of fuel, but what was the cost?

"Oi Deku, how does this shit work?"

While Izuku was stuck with a meltdown, his friend had other plans than to just sit here and have a existential crisis.

"Kacchan," He squeaks, flailing his hands. "-don't do that! You're gonna get hurt!"

"Shut up Deku, this shit's awesome." Kacchan tells him dismissively as he pokes at the fire with a stick. The black fire sways more furiously, almost irritated. Purple, grey and pink hues flickers in the middle, mixing with the smooth, silky black. Strangely enough the branch doesn't catch on fire when it goes in and Izuku's brain splutters in a attempt to understand what is going on.

How could a fire burn and at the same time not?

 _This doesn't make any sense,_ the toddler thinks as Kacchan continues to harass the tiny bonfire. _At least Kacchan seems to be enjoying it_ , he adds to himself. The blond seemed to be having the time of his life playing with fire. Who could have guessed that from the kid with the explosion Quirk.

He tries to ignore the warmth in his heart at his friend's awe. It's been a long time since Katsuki had spoken to him with any semblance of positivity. It feels demoralizing though that it's only due to his Quirk.

His weird, weird Quirk. Giddiness mixed with uneasiness at the thought.

"What's going on?" Izuku startles at the sound of his teacher's voice, Miss Asato. He yelps as he spins around to greet her, nearly falling over flat on his face in his panic. From the corner of his eyes, he watches as the obsidian flames sputters and grows a inch higher.

Something hollows in his chest.

"Teacher!" He exclaims, waving his arms at her. "My Quirk -the fire I made it but it's weird, look at the color I don't know what to do-"

His teacher laughs, waving him off. "That I can see," she tells him, patting his head. "What a strange Quirk, Izuku! Tell me, can you put it out?"

Izuku stares. Slowly, he turns his head to the fire and watches as Kacchan continues to harrass it. By now the other children were beginning to swarm around them, wide curious eyes shifting between Izuku and the flames. They're watching. Waiting for his reaction or another show of power.

He wilts, hunching over himself. He'd never had so many eyes on him before. Against his will, Izuku feels his cheeks redden.

"N-no." He informs her shamefully. Because he doesn't know, not really, he feels lost and hollow. Time's ticking however and they're all staring at him, waiting. He feels _useless_. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Just stay here, alright honey? Don't do anything, I'll handle it." She informs him softly, smiling at him.

 _Don't make more._ Unsaid but not unheard. She is trying to reassure him but its not working. He just got his Quirk and he can't control it. The shame curls deep in his gut. His ears burn with embarrassment as she turns away from him and yells to the second teacher, who's sitting by the school entrance watching on with curiosity.

"Hatsu, get the fire extinguisher. Katsuki, get away from the fire!"

The blond's answering screech makes Izuku wince. "Fuck that, it's fun!"

By the time the second teacher returns, Kacchan's hanging from under the first one's arm, scowling. The winged boy, Tsubasa, tries to grab the stick he'd dropped and resume the fire molestation, but he gets a stern reprimand.

Izuku just stands by the sidelines, useless. He hates it.

He wants to help, but he doesn't want to risk making more fires.

What if he accidentally set fire to a person? Icy dread curls in his chest. It definitely hurt Kacchan when he tried to touch it, what would happen a human caught fire? Would they burn like the sand? Would they be covered in flames and unable to put them out? The thought makes Izuku feel sick.

Suddenly the excitement that came with the manifestation of his power tapped off into dread. This was a weird Quirk, he repeats to himself.

This was a _dangerous_ Quirk.

He watches from the sidelines as their second teacher returns, carrying the fire extinguisher. The woman sets Katsuki down with a stern warning before taking the item from her peer.

"Alright kids, stand back!" Miss Asato orders sharply as she yanks the extinguisher open, points it at the fire and lets out a stream of white solution onto the fire.

Izuku watches with a bit of sadness as the flames are smothered under the foam. _Bye, weird Quirk_ , he thinks with a bit of silliness. _You were cool while you lasted._ Smoke curls from the top of the white foam.

Suddenly something tugs at his chest and Izuku can't help but wince, holding a hand against his heart. There it was again, that strange pressuring sensation from before. _What was that?_ He wonders, eyes flicking to his torso.

Things weren't right. The green-haired boy looks back at the mass of foam, squinting -only for his to gasp as the foam-like solution darkens and parts, and the small fire is there in the middle of it, untouched. Same size and same density. Completely unharmed by the product that was supposed to put it out.

Izuku stares.

What.

He's not the only one. At the corner of his sight, he sees the other children take steps back and whisper among themselves. Kacchan is the only one who looks even remotely amused at this point, judging by the wild grin in his eyes. The female teacher, Asato, seems to be caught in a stupor, blinking at the impossibility standing in front of her.

Then she raises her hands and empties the entire extinguisher on the fire.

This time Izuku is aware of the nearly painful tug in his chest, and he cries out in warning:

"Miss Asato, the fire-"

The flames rise up with a _roar_ , stretching several feet in the air. Purple and pink mix with the dense black, casting a strange grey light over the recess. A few children scream. The teachers scramble to get order back. Izuku could do nothing but stand in front of the fire, eyes wide as dancing tendrils of obsidian shrink back to their previous size.

No one dare to speak. Fearfully, Izuku risks a glance at Kacchan; the other boy is standing off to the side, eyes narrowed in contemplation. He's not smiling anymore. The flames cast soft blue-purple shadows on the curves of his face.

His friend-turned-bully's ruby eyes suddenly connect with his own, burning with their intensity and Izuku quickly looks away with a soft gasp, clutching the helm of his shirt tightly. Shame curls in his stomach.

"Teacher?" One of the students call out hesitantly.

"Hatsu," Miss Asato says, voice thick, completely ignoring the child. "...please call the fire department."

 **.**

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Standing precariously on their chairs, Kacchan and Izuku peaks through the classroom window as the fire truck arrive. He watches with wide, nervous eyes as his homeroom teacher anxiously waves the truck over. A tall man jumps out from the side door, dressed head to toe in a familiar firefighter uniform.

"Backdraft." Izuku murmurs in wonder. "He's here? I know he patrols near the school, but why call him for this? There's no need for his help here, not that its a bad thing, but isn't it a bit overk-"

"Deku." Kacchan growls at his side, eyes never straying from the scene. "Shut up."

Cheeks burning, he looks away. The demand is surprisingly tame coming from Katsuki, so Izuku doesn't reply in hopes of keeping the blond calm.

After speaking with the teacher in hush tones, the two kids watch in apprehensive silence as Backdraft approaches the tiny black bonfire. The pro-hero lifts one of his hands, points the bright red tap at the dancing flames and lets out a stream of water at it.

Izuku barely bites down a flinch as the hole in his chest caves in further, spreading. There was no doubt now that the fire and the feeling were connected. He squints and tries to ignore the pain, focusing on what was going outside.

Backdraft was almost clouded by steam; a shallow pool of water was around forming around him.

Still, if Izuku squints enough, he can see the fire, swirling and sputtering through Backdraft's attempts at putting it out. Struggling, but there.

 _It's not going away,_ Izuku thinks as the kids around him shout and whoop with excitement. Their teacher was trying to get order back but with a pro hero right outside, it was pointless. _He might not be able to do it._

 _"What a strange Quirk, Izuku! Tell me, can you put it out?"_

Could Izuku do it, instead?

He made it, didn't he? And the small black flames didn't hurt when he touched it.

He tries recalls the empty sensation he'd felt when he first created the flames, and each time they tried to put out the fire. It was stronger with Backdraft, a stretch of needle-like pain that bloomed across his chest and curled down his stomach, hollowing him out. Izuku fights to keep his breath even, each inhale becoming more and more work for him.

Reaching out with his mind, he pictures the fire in his head and curls around it. Izuku narrows his eyes as he feels it's presence, a mild warmth just far away that his mind could only brush against it. The sensation sends a shudder down his spine.

Still, he takes those few inches left, grabs the flames and _pulls_. Like a weight at the end of a elastic, he can feel the flames reel back, slotting into place in his chest.

Outside, the fire abruptly dies out. The melted sand, now a swirling mass of blackened glass, hisses and bubbles as water washes over it. Backdraft lets out a triumphant shout.

"Damn, that took a while for Backdraft to put it out!" Kacchan exclaims at his side, a sharp grin twisting his lips. He hasn't even noticed the palor of Izuku's face. "That's fuckin' awesome!"

Izuku can't breathe.

 **.**

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 **.**

The rest of the day is cancelled.

When Izuku goes to school tomorrow, the other children give him a wide berth. Kacchan ignores him completely, staring ahead and following the teachers' instructions. He doesn't even push him around after classes end.

As for the teachers themselves, Izuku couldn't miss their furtive glances or the silent conversations they traded across the room when he entered...or the way they always have a phone on hand, as if they were ready to call the firefighters the moment he dared as much as sneeze.

He's unsure he prefers this to the bullying. It wasn't _that_ dangerous... was it?

Then he thinks back to the way Backdraft had struggled to put it out, how the flames had died only _after_ Izuku willed it. The reminder sends a chill down his spine, and he understands the staff's reaction a bit better.

His classmates' whispers follow Izuku all the way home.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Izuku listens from the balcony as his mother talks over the phone, her voice unexpectedly quiet.

It's a contrast of how she would normally behave, usually so full of life and expressive. Izuku is sent back to the times he would come home to see her talking on the phone with Bakugo Mitsuki. Her arms would flail around and she would walk up and down the hallway, gesturing as she spoke even if her friend could not see her.

This is different. The conversation is quiet. Hushed. Like she doesn't want him to listen on her conversation.

The young boy tears his gaze away from her, choosing to look at the garden.

 _I should be happy._

Breathing out carefully, Izuku slowly opened and closed his left hand, fingers slicing through the air softly.

 _I have a Quirk now._

Black flames twists and licks at the digits, tickling his skin. Izuku squinted, straining to maintain his focus. Emerald eyes followed closely the raven fire as it wiggled happily in the palm of his hand. Under the fire, Izuku's surroundings were lit in grey and purple hues.

 _Why aren't I? Kacchan's not bullying me anymore. The other kids aren't making fun of me now._

(They're scared.)

 _I have a strong Quirk, I can be a hero like I've always wanted._

He bites his lower lip. His hands curl into fists.

 _Then why am I not_ ** _happy_ **_? What's going on?_

So caught up in his thoughts, his concentration lapsed.

Immediately the fire lashed out to the closest available target, attacking the small wilted rosebush Inko had been struggling to keep alive. The plant disintegrated into ashes -flower pot and all- before the young child could reel it back.

Defeated, Izuku leans back, closing his eyes as he lets the fire die out. The hollowness in his chest lessens. It doesn't hurt as much as the first time he'd used his Quirk, but he'd learned to cope with the pain. It's been present ever since his Quirk manifested.

 _It's like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop._

There's not enough air left in his lungs to sigh.

 **.**

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 **.**

Four days later, Izuku comes home to a stranger standing in the kitchen.

He stops at the entrance of the room, yellow backpack slowly sliding off his shoulders as he stares up at the impossibly large man looking inside the small kitchen. His hair is a dark fiery red, and instead of a beard he had fire dancing on his skin.

His expression was less than friendly, closed and imperious. His blue eyes were colder than ice, scanning every inch of Izuku body and seemingly finding him lacking. The only reason Izuku's not rushing out of the kitchen was due to one Midoriya Inko standing next to the stranger, looking less than pleased but resigned.

"Izuku?" She calls him, beckoning him close. "Please take a seat, honey."

Green eyes dart around the room, alternating between his mother's reassuring smile and the scowling man. It takes a moment for Izuku to find his voice.

"What's going on?"

 _Who is he, mom? Why do you look so worried?_

"Izuku." Inko tells him, firmer now. She nervously gestures the dinner table; Izuku notes the unlit candle and the water pitcher left there. "Sit. You're not in trouble."

That didn't mean something wasn't going on. Izuku hesitates for a moment, unsure of this development.

"O-okay…" He trots over to the dinner table and hops on the chair. Inko and the man stand on the other side; they don't even touch their chairs. "Mom, you're worrying me. What's going on?"

The smile his mother offers looks painful. "Izuku, I need you to use your Quirk."

He blinks, startled. Then his eyes shift back to the unlit candle. _Oh_. "But you said-"

Inko lifts a calming hand. "I know, I know but...he can help." She tilts her head at the scowling man.

"How?"

"His name is Enji. He's your father."

Izuku freezes.

The first thing he thinks, we look nothing alike. But then his eyes drift down from that cold, serious glare, down the sharp nose and at the little flames curling and twisting on the man's skin. _Fire Quirk._

The flames weren't harming the man.

Just like his own.

There's a small, tiny part of him who is morbidly curious and wants to crawl over the table and touch them, to see if his father's fire doesn't hurt him either. _Maybe it's only the creator that is immune? If I can somehow make someone else immune to the heat, it would be perfect for shielding civilians and caging villains-_

"Izuku, I know you have questions, but...I need you to show him your Quirk."

For a moment Izuku sits there, perplexed. His mouth barely stays closed. He has questions, lots of them in fact, but the man had yet to speak to him and Izuku could tell he wasn't one for idle conversation. How had his mother fallen for someone this...this cold?

Why was he back now?

 _"Show him your Quirk."_

Was it-

Had to be.

"Izuku?"

"It's okay," He breathes, voice tight.

He meets his father's gaze, this time holding the connection instead of looking away. The man's expression had yet to change.

 _Can't disappoint him,_ the boy thinks nervously. Taking a deep breath, he breathes out and reaches with his mind, just like he'd practiced when Inko wasn't looking.

A second later, a long, black tendril of fire bursts into life on the candle's tip.

The man moves for the first time, leaning closer to examine at the tiny candle and the long, flickering tongue of black fire. He picks up the candle, lifting it up to examine the strange colors dancing within the depth of the black flames. He tries to touch it, but senses the heat Izuku cannot feel and pulls away.

Then he drops the candle in the water pitcher.

Izuku jolts as the water churns and boils, steam rising to the surface. For a moment, the storm of bubbles makes it impossible to see anything through the glass.

 ** _CRASH_ **

The vase violently explodes.

Water and glass shards splatter across the table. Inko cries out, startled. Izuku jumps and squints his eyes as his mother winces and shies away from the small rain.

In the middle of the chaos, the man doesn't react. His eyes are set on the candlestick at the bottom of what remains of the vase. The fire's still there, no smaller or bigger than before it was placed underwater.

Izuku holds his breath.

Silence.

Almost angrily the fire twists and splutters on the candle's tip; Izuku feels it's pull, the distant sense of longing and hunger that he'd come to associate with the strange flames. He fidgets in his seat, shoes barely scraping the floor.

After a while, the man finally speaks.

"So you were telling the truth." The man rumbles, eyes flicking from the fire to Inko. His mother looks even more nervous now, wriggling her hands together. Just what was going on? "Black flames, that never stopped burning until Backdraft interfered."

 _He knows about that?_

"That's not true." Izuku couldn't help but blurt out, his voice barely cutting through the thick air. He squeaks as the man's blue eyes turn to him.

"Sit up." Izuku all but jolts up at the command, spine straight. "What did you say?"

"That's not t-true." He repeats, slower. "Backdraft didn't put it out. I...I willed it to go away." He looks down at his hands, the impossible weight of the man's glare choking him. "It kept burning until I w-wanted it to stop." To empathize this, he reaches out and curls his hand around the tip of the candle, ignoring Inko's choked warning.

Taking a deep breath, he recalls the image of his mind smothering the fire. When he opens his hand, all that remains is smoke and the whisk of the candle.

Enji hums. "You touched it," He says with unexpected softness, gaze pinning Izuku where he was. "...without being hurt."

Izuku nods. "I don't feel the heat. If anything," He swallows. "...it feels cold." _Empty._

Both his mom and dad exchange glances.

"Izuku," Inko tells him, swallowing. "...go to your room."

In the end, Izuku doesn't listen to his mother.

He runs up the stairs to his room, but instead of entering he just closes the door. Heart pounding, he kneels down on the floor and sneaks back to the top of stairs, peering down at the hallway, ears straining.

They must have thought the closed door would have muffled their conversation. It doesn't take long for him to hear their voices:

"-mutation-"

"-only now you answer-"

"-no need before-"

"-you're his **father** -!"

Izuku all but shoves a fist into his mouth to keep himself from shouting and giving away his location.

"-and what, keep him here? There's already been a small piece on the incident at school, how long do you expect villains to stay away-"

"Enji please! I don't want my child in danger-"

"-danger to himself and others-"

"-offer compensation-"

"- he's not a _object_ to sell-!"

Izuku's legs give out under him and he slowly slides down the wall and onto the floor. His father. That was his father down there and the way they were talking-

Was he really that dangerous?

There was another thing bothering him. Izuku had sworn he'd seen the red-headed man before, he had to. here was something tugging and scratching at the edge of his mind; he knows this man, Izuku is sure of it.

Maybe he was a pro hero? It would explain the muscle and where the funds came from, but which-

Wait.

Izuku freezes.

The fire Quirk, the reason of his father's return. The impossible physique. The beard made of fire.

It suddenly, painfully clicks, who the man in the kitchen is.

 _Endeavor_.

 **.**

 **.**  
 **  
** **.**

The Bakugos are there when Inko sends him off.

Izuku stands by the sidewalk, stomach churning. He watches as Inko sobs into aunt Mitsuki's shoulder, too numb to call out for her in comfort. The blond woman is barely able to hold her up, much less console her. His mother looks like she'd aged twenty years in less than a week.

Shame pits in his belly.

 _I'm doing this to her._

The skies are dark and grey. It looks like it's about to rain.

They spent the whole of yesterday together sorting through his stuff and packing, trading stories and crying over what he couldn't bring with him. He's only allowed to take a single suitcase and a bag of belongings with him. The suitcase and the gym bag were by his side now, nearly taller than him.

It's mainly books, keepsakes and his collection of notebooks; according to his mother, he wouldn't need his old clothes. He didn't want to think of what that meant.

Izuku stares out into the distance.

Anytime now.

He can't breathe.

(The flames twist and dance in his gut, carving deeper into his flesh, a warning he can't decipher.)

"Oi." Izuku blinks, startled. He turns his head to the source of the sound.

Katsuki stands in front of him, hands tucked into his pockets.

"Hey, Kacchan." He greets, voice soft.

The other boy glowers in return. Izuku fidgets.

"What?"

"If Auntie and you don't want to do it, why the _fuck_ are you moving?!" By the way Katsuki explodes at him, it's like he pulled the pin on a invisible grenade.

He fights back the wince. "I have to."

"Bullshit." Katsuki snarls, lifting his hands in the air. His palms were yellow-red with heat, but he doesn't aim them at the smaller child. Izuku's throat feels tight at the outrage in the other boy's voice. "They can't do that!"

"Yeah," Izuku says quietly, staring at his feet. "...my dad can."

Katsuki pauses. "Your dad, the deadbeat?"

"He's not a deadbeat," Izuku mutters under his breath, barely loud enough for Katsuki to frown at. "...he's been paying for the house and my school and now that my Quirk h-happened and its-" He stutters, hiccuping as he halts right before he nearly spills the beans.

Inko had made it expressly clear after Todoroki Eiji left their house to keep quiet. She had yet to answer a lot of questions, mainly how she'd somehow dated the number two hero of Japan. Her dodging had driven him mad, but he'd sensed in her voice how painful talking about it was, so he'd let it slip aside.

Izuku's shoulders slump.

Now she might never have the chance to do so.

(He can't _breathe_.)

"-he's taking me back."

"Aunt isn't going with you." The other kid guesses correctly. For once, there is no anger in Kacchan's voice, only quiet contemplation.

Izuku shakes his head. "N-no." He looks down at his right hand. He wiggles his fingers and wonder if he could let the restraint slacken for a smidget. Anything to ease the pressure growing in his stomach and head. "He wants me."

The blond's nose curls with disgust. "Shit father."

Endeavor's cold, calculating blue eyes flash to the front of his mind. Izuku closes his eyes and bites down on his tongue to stop the tears from falling. "I think he's one of those old traditional families." He informs his friend, aware that this might the last time they see each other. "I don't think he'd like having my mom around."

 _He barely seemed to tolerate me._ Izuku wants to shout. _He saw my Quirk and that's the only reason he even came to see me._

He feels no excitement from the fact he's going to go live with Endeavor, one of the most famous heroes in the world. Only dread.

Izuku didn't know what to expect when he got there.

"...and that makes it okay for you to leave Aunt Inko?" Kacchan presses, jabbing a finger into his chest. At the harsh touch on the painful area, Izuku couldn't stop himself from grimacing even if he tried. "Why don't you _do_ something?! Are you okay with leaving your mom behind?"

The green haired boy flinches. "What -no!"

"Then kick and scream, you idiot! Don't just let your shitty dad take you, you useless moron!"

"You don't understand!" Izuku all but screams, voice quivering. "I have to!"

Kacchan rears back like a offended dragon. His hair gleams gold in the sunlight and Izuku's pinned in place by the intensity of his glare.

"Deku-"

"Katsuki." Inko suddenly interrupts behind them, voice wavering and tight with emotions. "Enough."

Izuku could only watch as his friend stomps to his mother's side. He tries to catch Katsuki's gaze, but the boy all but turns away from him. The frustration that surges up at the sight of the blond blocking him off in such a way makes Izuku want to stomp his feet and shout obscenities at him.

 _I don't want this!_ He wants to scream, but he swallows it down.

The sound of a approaching car draws him out of his daze. Izuku watches with mounting nerves as a sleek black car, almost as dark is his Quirk, makes it's way up the road and stops in front of them. It looks ridiculously out of place compared to the small compact houses and the old red car his mother uses to get to work.

A man steps out of the driver's side. He's not someone Izuku recognizes. After exchanging quiet words with Inko, the man reaches for his suitcase and bag and begins putting them in the trunk of the expensive car. He's detached and professional. Some sort of employee, Izuku guesses grimly.

Would he even meet his father again, or was he going to be relegated to people like this man?

Belongings taken, it leaves Izuku standing in the middle of the lawn, breathless and dizzy from nerves.

"Izuku?"

Green eyes blink. Inko. he turns to her, fighting the tears. "Kaa-san." He murmurs, lifting his arms out.

No more words needed to be exchanged as she sweeps him up into a tight embrace. It's okay though. It's not like Izuku could breathe well before his mother all but attempts to smoother him.

He tears himself away from Inko just in time to see Aunt Mitsuki all but shove Katsuki towards him. The explosive boy's expression is dark and unreadable.

"Kacchan," he whimpers softly as the emotions threaten to drown him, tiny hands balling to fists against the helm of his shirt.

"Go," Katsuki mutters with a glare. There's redness in the corners of his eyes. "...go home to your rich dad, shitty Deku."

Aunt Mitsuki hisses and tries to apologize, but Izuku turns away, tears dripping down his cheeks. His last hug with Inko was tight and drawn out, and he tries to ignore the muffled scream his mom lets out against his belly. His shirt is wet with tears.

(The flames roar, louder now, but he calms them with some struggle.)

The driver suddenly calls out behind them, slightly impatient. The meager gasps of air Izuku managed to take in leave him.

 _Time to go_.

He beckons Izuku over and puts him into the car, making sure his seatbelt was on. Izuku does as asked obediently, his eyes never straying from his mother or the Bakugos. Inko looks like she's about to collapse, and it hurts to see her so fragile.

As for his friend...from the looks of things Kacchan was still outraged with him, standing between his parents with his arms crossed. As the driver steps fully out of his line of sight, their eyes meet again. Izuku's green eyes were watery, vulnerable and searching.

 _Don't just let me go,_ Izuku thinks frantically. _I never wanted you to be angry with me. I'm sorry._

Something softens in Katsuki's scarlet eyes, then his eyes suddenly widen, the last of his anger dripping away as if he was suddenly very aware that this could be the last time they ever see each other.

Previous conflict seemingly forgotten, Izuku watches as he takes a step forward, opening his mouth to speak-

But the car door abruptly slams closed between them with the finality of a funeral bell.

 **.**

 **.**  
 **  
** **.**

As the car pulls away, the first droplets of water start hitting the windows. The skies part and bring down great torrents of rain, creating a soft melody as the water collides with the car. The wind howls furiously against the metal shell of the vehicle.

The insides were cold and detached. There was a barrier separating him from the driver. The glass was foggy and he couldn't see outside.

There's nobody here but Izuku and the rain.

This was it.

Izuku curls up on the leather seat, bringing his legs against his chest. His heart pounds wildly in his chest, threatening to burst out of it's confines. Now alone, he gives in to the urge to clamps his hands over his ears and closes his eyes tightly, trying to shut this whole nightmare of a week out.

But he can't, because this was life now.

This was his reality.

Izuku doesn't have enough air left in his lungs to scream.


	2. Chapter 2

**You guys can't see, but I've spent the last few hours alternating between reading the reviews, squealing like a little kid, pacing as the plot bunnies bite at my heels and drowning myself in music while I write.**

 **Legit got big chunks of the next few chapters written out in less than a day because just how many people liked this, and I got a big fat doc with most of the story planned out and chapter-by-chapter summary. I even got shit from the tournament arc written out, and wtf that's at least 10 chapters away what is wrong with me.**

 **I haven't felt this excited to write something in yEARS. So thank you, all of you darlings have left me a squeaking mess for the better part of day XD**

 **First of all, I'll put this and I should have made a disclaimer; the story is gonna be a MidoriyaxBakugo, though you might have noticed with the way the first chapter was written. We aren't going to see angry angry pomeranian for a long while though since the next few chapters are going to build up the Todoroki situation, and it's going to be a SLOW burn. I like romance fics as much as the next person, but I fuCKING love angst and good adventure plot.**

 **As for the Toya thing some of you might be wondering, well, I ain't going to spoil things, but Horikoshi might as well spill the beans now before we stick a tube down his throat and seize said beans ourselves.**

 **Final point: I had a pretty shit dad and mom when I was young, so I got a pretty good grasp on how a abusive dad would act and how it affects the other people in the family. Endeavor ain't gonna be flat out evil flaming trashbag, but it's going to be close. I feel bad for Izuku already.**

 **As for the legitimacy issue and if Izuku's gonna be a full Todoroki...well...you'll see next chapter.**

 **Okay I'm shutting up now. This chapter is a bit shorter than the precious one, but I got school tomorrow and I just got out of my depression phase so I ain't fucking up this semester too.**

 **It's still like 10 PM here though...I-I'm starting to sense a bit of a pattern here…?**

* * *

The driver doesn't speak to him.

It wasn't like Izuku wasn't expecting him to make idle chat either but the absolute silence and the literal wall between the backseat was disorienting. He'd never felt so cut off from the world before. Deep down there's the tiniest, faintest part of him that feels excited at the fact he's sitting here, but it's dampened by the misery Izuku feels down to his very bones.

Was Kaa-san crying, right now? The thought sent cold waves of shame and sadness through Izuku's blood. He hoped Aunt Mitsuki was taking care of her. Inko needed all the help she could get and as... _lively_... as his aunt was, he knew Mitsuki genuinely cared for her. His mom was be in good hands.

She had to be.

Exhausted, Izuku closes his eyes and tilts his head back, breathing out softly.

(Still too tight, too little.)

How was Kacchan handling it? Now that was something that gave him pause. Izuku couldn't help but bite his lower lip and looked at his feet, rubbing his red shoes together. Was he angry, now? Was he shouting at Kaa-san and Mitsuki?

 _Does he miss me?_

He didn't know what to think; the sight of Katsuki's eyes widening and the sudden _vulnerability_ in his gaze was burned to memory. Maybe he was just angry, a part of him grouched, still brittle from the months of pushing around. _He's not gonna miss you, he just doesn't want Inko to be sad._

Again, his thoughts swirled back to his mother. His poor, poor mother living in a empty house. Izuku opened his eyes, blinking furiously at the sting of tears that threaten to fall. _Weak,_ he thinks as he rubbed his face with his right sleeve. _Stupid, you gotta stop crying at everything._

 _What would Endeavor think?_

Self-loathing pools in his stomach _. You're the son of the Number Two hero. You should act like it._

Unsurprisingly, it doesn't make Izuku feel any better. Even thinking it made it sound like something straight out of a dream.

Or a nightmare.

Izuku didn't know which was which anymore.

His father was back. He was a pro hero. He was _the second strongest hero in Japan_ and all Izuku here could do was feel bad and dread meeting him again. Going to live with him couldn't be all that bad, could it?

 _He went through all this trouble to get me back. He's taking me in so I don't hurt mom or anyone else with my Quirk._

Why did that conclusion feel hollow? _Stupid._ Things might be better if he didn't dwell too hard on it.

Glassy green eyes trailed over the spacious back, frowning as his gaze rests on the folding desk integrated to the wall in front of him. He could discern what looked like cup holders barely visible on either side, the dark metal seams barely poking out amongst the smoothness of the leather.

This was a car for adults. A really _expensive_ one.

Izuku gulps, suddenly all too aware of his raggy red shoes, his dark pants (with some holes, courtesy of Kacchan and a few other kids) and the white t-shirt his mom had made him put on. These clothes were amongst the nicest he'd had, but they didn't even come close to the interior of the car.

Most definitely, he didn't belong here.

Somehow, the unimportant realization makes him panic.

He twists in his seat, eyes flying across the small space, barely resisting the urge to kick his legs forward and stretch, take space, do _something,_ to reaffirm his presence to this dark, empty space. He feels like he's too small, too quiet in this vast place, and if he kept quiet it would swallow him up and devour him.

The green haired boy shudders, swaying from side to side. His breathing comes hard and fast, too quick for him to take in the deep breath he needed. _I don't belong here. I shouldn't_ _ **be**_ _here._ Izuku wants to cry, but he feels too lightheaded to even muster the strength to do so. He curls up in the backseat, hugging his knees and pressing his face against the door.

For the smallest, briefest moment, he contemplates opening the door.

Izuku knew it was a bad thought but wasn't looking to get hurt, really! He just wanted a smidge, just to see outside -to feel the fresh air on his face. The atmosphere inside the car felt too cramped and tight; he couldn't draw a proper breath.

 _Opening the door could make things better,_ a incoherent part of him tells him. Izuku listens. _Open it. You need to breathe. You need to get out of here._

Hesitating, he rest a hand on the door handle. It has to be locked, he thinks. Had to. Surely one of Endeavor's employees wouldn't be careless enough to leave a door unlocked when there was a child alone in the backseat. At least, that's what he liked to believe. And he had his seatbelt on like Inko taught him, so it couldn't be dangerous, right?

It wouldn't hurt to check if it was unlocked...

(Would he survive jumping out of the moving car?)

Izuku suddenly pauses, blinking. His hand is crisped around the opening mechanism of the door. He stares out the window, expression blank as cars, buildings and people fly by.

 _What am I doing?_

He lets go of the handle like he's been burned.

 _I'm going crazy,_ he thinks a tiny bit hysterically. Izuku shuffles away from the door, refusing to be tempted. The young boy shifts his gaze to glance at the tiny window that allowed him to look at the man driving the car.

Nothing. The man kept driving on, unperturbed. The driver didn't seem to have noticed how close his charge had come to throwing himself out into the street. Had he even glanced back even once? No, he was sure of it. The man had yet to turn around to check on him.

He probably didn't care.

 _Or maybe he doesn't think you're stupid enough to jump out into moving traffic,_ a voice that sounds suspiciously like Kacchan mutters in his ears. A tiny, distant part of Izuku that was still sane agrees.

He wants to laugh hysterically.

 _Stop panicking. I can do this._

He just had to sit here and be quiet. Keep his breath even and try not to panic like a useless moron again. Surely Izuku could do that, right?

(He hoped he could.)

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

It feels like it's hours later when the car finally comes to a stop.

Izuku blinks out of his daze, dragged out of his sleepy stupor when the rumbling motor went silent under his feet. His heart drops. They'd arrived to their destination.

 _Breathe,_ he thinks furiously as he straightens in his seat. Nervously, his hands drift down to his shirt and attempts to smooth out the wrinkles it gained from Izuku being curled up for so long. Sloppy, he thinks with mild panic.

He doesn't feel ready.

Maybe if-

The car door opens.

Izuku freezes.

There's two people waiting for him.

He immediately recognizes his father, dressed impeccably in a black shirt and grey workout pants. Even with his fire reduced, his body, crossed arms and stoic expression cut a impressive figure in front of the house, easily dwarfing the little girl standing at his side.

Her presence captivates Izuku's attention almost immediately. She was much older than him, probably in her teen years. Clad in a red shirt and a pale shirt, it really brought out her pure white hair. It looked like freshly fallen snow and was just so _dazzling_ , Izuku's hands twitched with the urge to touch. It was too much to be natural. Was it a secondary characteristic of her Quirk?

Their gazes met. Her eyes were a familiar, sharp turquoise. Izuku falters and looks away, a pit forming low in his stomach.

Was she...

 _(It would explain her presence, wouldn't it?)_

A sound from the driver makes him lock that voice away in a corner of his mind. At the gesture of the impatient man, Izuku steps out of the vehicle. The cold afternoon air envelops him, seeping down to his bones. It looked like it only just stopped raining.

He stands at the steps of the house, barely resisting the urge to fidget.

Endeavor watched him from the top of the stairs, scanning his form up and down. Much like he had before, when they'd first met.

A uncomfortable feeling crawled up Izuku's spine. Was he always going to be like this? He recalled Uncle Masaru's gentle demeanor, and how he'd sometimes pick him up with Kacchan at the same time and swing them around, much to his son's displeasure. How he would smile like Katsuki and Mitsuki were his suns, how he would sometimes ruffle Izuku's hair when his voice overtook the commentator of the All Might documentary they watched after dinner.

Kacchan had always glared at that, disliking how Izuku took his father's attention.

 _Mine,_ he would mutter, shoving himself between them. Not as much as pushing his way between the two of them but rather draping himself on top of the smaller boy and his father's lap, squishing him. _Get your own, Deku._ Kacchan would spit as he stretched cat-like on top of him, his words lacking fire.

Try as he might, Izuku couldn't picture Enji doing such things. His gaze flickered to the girl at his side, meek but her eyes holding restrained interest as she inspected his appearance. The way she held herself, spine straight and hands clasped in front of her told Izuku enough.

There was barely any familiar warmth between his sister and Endeavor.

 _He's one of the strongest pro-heroes,_ Izuku tries to rationalize, though in his mind it feels as hollow as the pain in his chest. _He must be really busy. Too busy doing the important things, saving lives-_

(Maybe that's why he never came to pick him up.)

He was here though, so that had to mean something.

"Izuku, you're here."

His attention snapped back to Endeavor.

 _Where else would I be?_

(Home.)

The man had uncrossed his arms, and was beckoning him to follow as he turned towards the house door. Under one arm, he was holding both his suitcase and his gym bag. Wait, when did the driver give him…?

"Come."

Izuku traded stares with his sibling. The girl looks like she wants to say something and Izuku wants her to talk, wants to hear his _sister's_ voice since it must be so soft and full of warmth, maybe like Inko, maybe she liked him like he liked her-

"Izuku!"

His heart seizes at the impatient call, nearly bursting out of his chest. The fire _rattles_ inside him, beating its wings against the cage keeping it trapped, frenzied.

"R-right!" Izuku squeals as he bolts after his father, who's already entering the house. A glance back lets him see his sister standing there, eyes sad, mouth open as if she had been about to speak. His insides twist uncomfortably.

The green-haired boy forces himself to look away.

The Todoroki property was very much different from his _-Inko's_ house. It's hallways are wide and broad, the rooms arranged in a traditional japanese style that makes Izuku feel small and out of place. Just like in the car.

The house is also big, very much so. At one point his father grows tired of him falling behind and grabs him by the wrist, practically dragging him along. His grip was tight, but it was okay. He'd had worse.

Todoroki Enji also doesn't talk to him either, choosing to focus on reaching his destination. Izuku was too much of a coward to speak up despite the curiosity eating away at him. He swallows his questions down, not wanting to appear rude.

Then they reach the sleeping quarters and things change. Izuku freezes when he spots him.

Endeavor stops too, noticing the presence.

There's a boy his age peeking his head out from behind one of the door. His hair is strange -split in the middle, one side was a pale, delicate white similar to the girl he'd met at the entrance, and the other side was a dark red identical to Endeavor's.

A bandage is wrapped around his head, ruffling the two-toned hair. It covers his left eye, leaving only the clear, grey left one to peak out from under the heavy gauze. Izuku's heart drops at the sight.

 _What happened to him?_ Izuku knows he's staring, but he can't help it. There's little doubt that this boy was another of his siblings.

He blinks.

Oh. _Oh._

 _This is my brother._

His skin feels prickly, and he fidgets with barely restrained excitement. _This boy is my brother._ Why did he have hair like that? Why the bandages? _Is he older or younger than me -do I have a little brother, am I_ _a older brother?! Or am I the youngest oh god_ _there's the girl too how many siblings do I-_

Endeavor yanks on his wrist, startling him out of his thoughts. Izuku looks up questioningly, but his father has eyes only for the taller boy.

"Shoto. This is your brother, Izuku."

 _Shoto? Is that his name?_

The boy's single eye darkens at the restrained call of his name, narrowing as it shifts from the green-haired child to Endeavor. Something burns in that steel gaze. Lips twisted into a silent snarl, the other kid spins around and retreats back into his room, slamming the door hard behind him.

 _When dad spoke he looked so-_

Izuku feels cold.

When Endeavor tugs on his wrist again, he follows numbly.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

His father brings him to a room at the end of the hall, just four doors away from Shoto's. It's big, easily the size of his old living room. There's a futon laid in one side of the room, a door leading to the closet. A lone cupboard by a small window. The floor was covered in tatami flooring.

Izuku was honest enough to admit that he stares a bit. It's a staggering contrast to Inko's house.

"This is your bedroom." Endeavor lets the suitcase and bag drop none too gently to the floor, making Izuku jump. "Unpack."

Then he steps aside and leaves Izuku to it.

It's difficult to do so with Endeavor's attention on him, but the green haired boy fights through the sharp roots of anxiety spreading across his body. He could do this without tripping over his own two feet. Maybe. Then again it's the eyes of the Number Two Hero that were burning their way through the back of his head.

No pressure, no pressure at all. _Imagine it's Kacchan,_ he thinks, but he quickly dismisses it because to be honest Kacchan could be downright mean when he wanted to, but he never exhumed the same sense of danger Endeavor did.

He opens his suitcase and gym bag, spreading his belongings in front of him before taking the clothes to the closet, setting them on the lowest shelf. This room was almost half as big as his bedroom back ho- back with mom, and it feels painfully empty and bare

 _I can fill it,_ he thinks. _I'm probably gonna need more clothes, a-and there's enough space here to store some of my merchandise, maybe even a small bookshelf to stash my notebooks?_

Warmth blooms in his chest at the thought. Yeah. Maybe he shouldn't feel so down about all of this. He could make this work.

His clothes arranged, he leaves the closet -and freezes.

Endeavor was standing there, expression pinched tight, indescribable. In his hand was one of the All Might limited edition collectibles Izuku had brought with him.

For a moment, Izuku doesn't even **dare** breathe.

His father didn't look mad, per say, but there was something about his stare, the sheer intensity in his eyes and the way he was clutching the toy so tightly _was that smoke-_

"C-can I have it back, please?" Izuku found himself saying, his mouth moving without him wanting it to. He feels floaty and disconnected from him body, drifting in the air as easily as a leaf in the wind.

(Or ashes.)

At first, Endeavor doesn't look at him. Then slowly, ever slowly, his eyes shift to Izuku, as if noticing his presence for the first time.

The toy drops to the ground, forgotten.

Izuku exhales.

"Do you need anything else?"

Izuku falters, the questions he wished he could ask his father remaining lodged in his throat. Could he go meet his siblings now? When could he go out and visit the Bakugos? Where was he going to school?

 _When can I see Kaa-san again?_

They're stuck in his trachea. Glued to the back of his mouth like thick black tar. Instead, he mutters out:

"No sir, thank you. I-I have what I need."

Endeavor pins him with a scrutinizing stare. "Good," He starts, voice tight, subdued. "I will return in a few minutes. Finish unpacking your things."

Then he leaves.

As soon as the door closes, Izuku lunges for the toy, grabbing it with trembling hands and tucking the doll so close against his chest that the pointed hair tuffs atop of All Might's head bruised his right collarbone. He can feel the heat emanating from the plastic, a reminder of how close Endeavor had gotten to melting the toy.

The toy in his hands feels too warm, but he refuses to let go. He can't help but let out a choked whine as he sits down on his futon, breathing hard. It was soft and comfy under him, welcoming, but it felt like at any moment it was going to come alive and devour him.

 _Why did he do that?_

Did he hate All Might that much?

(Does he care about me that little?)

Izuku shudders.

No time for that.

Can't think of it.

He had to do something though. He couldn't let it happen again.

He couldn't bear to lose any of the meager belongings he'd been able to bring with him to this big, empty, barren house.

Heart set, Izuku grabs his gym bag. With a bit of a struggle, he pushes his notebooks aside and carefully, lovingly rests the toy at the bottom of the bag. His movements are rapid, panicked, as if he was expecting his father to walk back into the room any moment now and finish what he started. Izuku didn't try to chide himself for the erratic behavior because it certainly felt like that was going to happen.

Wasn't Endeavor a hero? Then why, _why_ was he so angry?

Why did he look like he was about to-

 _Don't think about it. Don't._ Blood pumps loudly in his ears.

The toy hidden, he grabs his other All Might memorabilia -a rolled up poster, two more figurines and a small plush toy- and he puts them next to his action figure. Then, the green haired boy shakedly places some of his winter clothes on top his belongings.

The notebooks go on top of those.

It barely looks like there's anything else but books and clothes there. It's only after he feels his things were safe -as safe as they could be, _as safe as he could be here_ \- that Izuku allowed the ragged breath stuck in his lungs out.

The noose that was tightening around his neck slackens.

(He can still feel it's weight around his shoulders.)

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

The room Endeavor leads him next is wide and open, lacking any sort of decoration. From the multiple fighting videos he'd watched ever since his obsession with heroes began, Izuku as some sort of dojo. Like the rest of the house, the room is very old style; there are sliding doors on one side leading to another room of similar size. A well-used, pale brown matt covers most of the floor.

Izuku doesn't miss the faint burns marks decorating the ground and walls.

"We will start by figuring out how your Quirk works." Endeavor tells him sharply, standing in front of him, commanding attention. He's not in his hero suit nor in civilian clothing, but rather workout clothes.

Izuku watches with interest as the large man walks over to a small trunk tucked at the back of the room, well away from the training area. Endeavor opens it, his movements quick and rigid as he prefers the contents of the box. The pro-hero pulls a large grey altar candlestick and a wax candle, closes the trunk and comes back to stand in front of Izuku.

Endeavor methodically sets the candlestick on the floor and puts the candle on it. Then his gaze flicks up, pinning Izuku in place. Blood cold and heart hammering like a hummingbird in his ribcage, Izuku could do nothing but stand there, petrified.

"Summon your fire."

The detached, authoritative tone left no room for arguing. Izuku feels tingly and cold, and only some mediocre strength of will keeps him from trembling like a leaf in the wind.

It didn't save his mind from having a meltdown, though.

 _Do not disappoint him._

 _What if he sends me back?_

 _Can he send me back to mom?_

 _What if he thinks my Quirk is too much, too dangerous to handle?_

 _Is there a precedent to unstable, unsafe Quirks? Am I going to be shipped off to a facility in the middle of-_

"Well?"

Sharp. Impatient. Oh no. Endeavor's voice stabs right through the fog and into his heart. It's the first time he sees the hero emote. Upon realizing he'd spaced out _in front of his father_ , a tiny, tiny part of Izuku shrivels up and dies.

Just let the ground swallow him whole, it was better than facing this reality.

(Maybe Kacchan was right, he had his head in the clouds too much.)

"Y-yes, sir." Meekly, he lifted his arms and concentrated on the candle in front of him. He _pulls_ , and the fire answers his call eagerly.

Onyx flames burst to life at the tip of the candle, swirling in jagged loops and curls as it rises up almost to his shoulders. He feels the strain worse this time, the constrictive feeling in his chest making him feel slightly nauseous.

It's harder to wrangle this time, the boy notes with a bit of worry. Izuku has to squint and concentrate hard to keep it from twisting out of his control. He remembers the rosebush his mother had been trying to save.

(It only took a moment. Just a second and-)

"You're barely burning the wax." Endeavor notes as he squats down in front of him, expression thoughtful. It's the most Izuku had seen him emote since he'd been brought here.

"I-I don't want it to." Izuku informs him with a tight voice. Noting the fact he'd just interrupted his father, Endeavor, he quickly shutters out something more informative. "It's still very hot though! I managed to turn the sand in my school's courtyard into glass."

His father grunts.

"That's at least 3200 degrees Fahrenheit." Todoroki Enji notes absently. His right hand brushes on top of the fire, but unlike Kacchan he doesn't try to get too close. His massive fingers hover just out of reach, gauging the heat emanating from the unusual flames. "Have you burned anything else?"

Izuku hesitates. "A bush." He starts slowly, then he realize how little information he was offering. "It was in a b-big flower pot. I burned it to ashes. F-flower pot included."

"Stop stuttering." Endeavor snaps almost absentmindedly, frowning. "How long did it take?" He asks briskly.

 _A blink._

"A second, at most?"

His father's left eyebrow lift and he finally looks up to meet his gaze. Izuku's stomach drops at the look the Number Two hero offered him. Not impressed.

It physically hurt.

The fire crackled at his feet, blues mixing with purple.

"What was the pot made of? Plastic?"

"Huh, s-stone?" By the furrowing of his brows, Endeavor wasn't liking his uncertain answer or the hesitation in his voice. Or the stuttering. Right, he wants details. Izuku could give those. Izuku was _good_ at those. He was a master at taking apart and reciting the pros and cons of Quirks. In this situation though… _I just got my Quirk, I barely played with it since if I slip..._ "I don't know a-and it didn't really matter. As soon as the fire latched on, it turned the entire thing to ashes."

Endeavor taps his chin thoughtfully. "I believe I understand the basics now. So your Quirk only burns what you will it to, but it can get out of control if you don't maintain your concentration. It can get to temperatures higher than 3200 Fahrenheit within a second. It doesn't hurt you,however." He points a finger at Izuku, who fidgets at the pro-hero's intensity. "Not to mention, can't be put out unless you will it. Fascinating."

Izuku swallows and nods slowly.

"And water doesn't work on it, no. N-nor fire extinguishers. Or much else.."

 _I tried._

For a moment, Endeavor looked almost impressed. "A interesting mutation." He comments distractedly. The tiniest bit of warmth bloomed in Izuku's chest at that.

The fire spun gently atop of the candlestick, purple-black, less jagged more curved. Softer.

"Would fire put it out, I wonder?"

Green eyes blink. _Wait what-_

The fire on the candlestick turned bright, harsh blue.

Izuku stumbled back, his next breath catching in his throat like something was suddenly lodged there, keeping him from breathing. _Hellfire,_ he thinks with a mixture of excitement and stupor. The black flames swirled atop of the candlestick, twisting around vibrant blue and wobbling angrily as it struggled to stay alive.

It felt like a brunt object collided with his chest. Izuku winced, unable to stop the pained breath from leaving him as Endeavor kept applying the pressure, burning the candle until only blue fire remained. Now he had no air left in his lungs. _He's suffocating my flames,_ Izuku thinks, fighting through the lightheadedness. _He's keeping it from reforming, if he keeps up-_

He feels the familiar snap of the fire returning to him.

Izuku breathes.

(It's worse now.)

Satisfied that the fire was out, Endeavor killed his own. The red-headed hero made a sound of approval, dismissing how Izuku was rubbing at his chest, how ragged his breathing had become. Izuku knew he didn't miss it, though.

Just didn't try to make sure he was okay.

"This is good." His father grunts, more to himself than Izuku. Endeavor stands up. He jerks his head at the candlestick at their feet. "Put it back where it was." The small child in front of him jolts, startled.

Obediently, Izuku picks it up, trots over to the trunk; he opens it with a bit of struggle -his arms felt numb- and places the item next to other candlesticks of varying sizes. The box was filled with different items, but they all seemed fire-related. At least, those Izuku could recognize, which were less than half of them.

'We're done for today." Enji tells him; Izuku knows when he's being dismissed. "I have what I need to select your teacher."

Endeavor is like a mountain next to him, but Izuku couldn't help but speak up. "...you…" Izuku hesitates, fighting the urge to wriggle his hands. "...you won't train me?"

The man shakes head.

"No." His father waves him off, unperturbed. "I'll oversee your training indirectly." Endeavor tells him like Izuku's stomach didn't just drop to the floor. "I will be assigning you a tutor for your Fire Quirk. He will be the one responsible for preparing you for Yuuei."

His breath catches in his throat. Yuuei. Right.

Of course Endeavor would-

 _(Why are you complaining? Isn't this what you want?)_

The words come out before he can stop himself:

"Why won't you train me?" Izuku squeaks, bringing his hands up to his mouth. Red bloomed across his cheeks. _Stupid. Why did I say that?_

Endeavor's stare was just shy of a glare. He looks like a monument with the way he loomed over him. Izuku's breath was stuck in his throat. He felt like he was about to be squashed.

No, he felt-

(Tiny. Unimportant.)

"I have other things to do." Endeavor reveals to Izuku, who was starting to get light headed again. "Your brother Shoto needs my guidance more than you. He has been-" A inhale sharply, lips twisting into a frustrated sneer. If Endeavor looked annoyed before, now he looked furious and Izuku shuddered, remembering his expression when he'd seen the All Might collectible. "...difficult. I need to focus on him if he's ever going to be the hero who surpasses All Might."

Surpass All Might? Izuku is taken off guard yet again. Was that even possible? Was Endeavor so confident in his sibling's power that he believed he could dethrone the Symbol of Peace? It felt inconceivable.

Unbelievable.

The boy then recalls his figurine, nearly hot enough in his palm to hurt. So close to melting into a twisted, useless mass of plastic in Endeavor's grasp.

This wasn't just a rivalry, what his father had against All Might.

 _He doesn't dislike All Might_ , Izuku realizes a bit hysterically, unsettled by the sheer fire in his father's voice. _He_ _ **hates**_ _him._

Somehow, that hurts more than anything else.

* * *

 **Please tell me if there any mistakes, or I should tone down Izuku's mind rambling. I think it's cute, but I might go overboard (like he does).**

 **Also if there are any mistakes writing wise. It's been a long ass time since I've last written anything (started last month) and I'm rustier than a abandoned nail. And I've decided that I'll die like a lady so no beta : D**


	3. Chapter 3

**To those mad about the pairing, I apologize for not posting that in the first chapter. That said, I won't be removing it from the story, since it's improtant but not a main point of this work. If you can't handle a same-sex pairing then it's okay, step off this ride if you want, there's a loads of wonderful stories on this site to enjoy!**

 **Anyhow! That part over, let's get on with this show. I'm running on spite and coffee and I bet I'm gonna wake up next morning with the family dog suffocating me. Apparently this Great Collie thinks she is a lap dog.**

 **I'm a twig.**

 **I'm gonna die.**

 **Bye.**

* * *

The following few days, Izuku learned more about the Todoroki household. Namely how he has not two, but _four_ other siblings.

The second-oldest is the girl with the pale, snow-white hair streaked with red. She's kind, bringing food to his room and showing him where the bathroom is after Endeavor escorts him back after their training session.

" _My name is Fuyumi._ " She whispered meekly like it's a secret one day while they wash the dishes together. It had been one of the rare occasion Izuku is allowed to roam. Not that he's confined to his room, but the general cool, detached air of the Todoroki estate leaves him cold and reaching for his All Might toys and notebooks.

" _Izuku,"_ He'd murmured in return, just as hushed. " _It's nice to meet you."_ The way her cheeks wrinkled from the blinding smile she'd rewarded him kept him light and warm for the rest of that day.

She was so _different_ from Endeavor, it made his head spin. Her words and her open, honest expression when they're alone ease some of Izuku's uncertainty. He cradles that name close to his chest, heart warmed by his sister's friendliness. Huh. _Sister_. It still felt weird to think about it. From a day to the next, he'd gone from a only child to being the youngest of five.

Despite her friendliness however, Fuyumi spoke very little, and she was often gone for school. Izuku could see that she wanted to talk to him more, to get to know him and he yearns for it. However she seemed to shy away from him, most often than not only exchanging a few words during dinner time and when she came to help him figure out how the futon worked.

He wonders if Endeavor told her something.

Did she know about his Quirk?

It sends cold down his back.

(Is she scared like the children and the teachers were?)

The oldest he never meets, but his name is spoked in hush tones by Fuyumi: _Touya_. Izuku searches as discretely as he could, but he doesn't find pictures or any trace of this boy. He did seem to be living here by how Izuku hears shuffling at night from the other rooms, and some bedrooms were always locked, but it perplexed the green haired boy that this older sibling seemed so...so removed from the household, especially since he couldn't be much older than Fuyumi herself.

If so, where was he?

By how Fuyumi looked when he'd asked about the eldest of the Todoroki children, Izuku was better off not asking. Recalling her sad, defeated expression makes him shudder.

The middle child of the Todoroki family is called Natsuo. Izuku knows this because he'd heard Endeavor shouting at him one evening and surprisingly, the boy had hollered _back_ at the Number Two Hero with just as much spite and fire.

Izuku didn't know what they were yelling about; there were too many big words he didn't know, some obscene ones that he didn't understand but remembered from Kacchan saying and subsequently getting dragged out by the ear by Aunt Mitsuki. The screaming was so bad, it shook him enough that he'd hidden under his futon and went to sleep early.

In the end Izuku failed to actually go to sleep, instead spending most the night curled up under the bedsheets. He waiting with baited breath and thundering heart for their shouting to die down until ultimately, he couldn't anymore and passed out from exhaustion.

Natsuo wasn't there when he wakes up, but there's evidence of his presence and Endeavor's foul mood-

Well.

A small part of Izuku was glad his father paid him little mind.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

" _This is Hiroi Eisen. He will be your teacher."_

The first thing Izuku thinks is that the man is much younger than he had expected. Mid twenties at most, Hiroi Eisen's hair was a dark red-brown, cropped short to his head. He wore simple black workout clothes with running shoes, and red braces on his forearms to protect himself from his own Quirk. His facial expression could only be described as simultaneously blank, bored and pinched at once.

Like the librarian at school when Izuku forgot and turned in a book late.

But worse.

Hiroi-sensei, as the man told Izuku to call him, was a longtime sidekick at Endeavor's agency. Flare was his hero codename, assigned due to his ability to create fire from his nails that crackled and popped like the little firecrackers Inko allowed him to play with during the New Year. Kacchan really liked those.

...then again, Kacchan liked anything flashy and prone to explode.

It didn't take a genius to realize that just like him, Hiroi didn't seem to _want_ to be here anymore than Izuku himself. He could see it by the thinning of his lips, the way he shifted on his feet and tapped his heels against the matt.

 _Unlike him though, I need this,_ Izuku thinks as he bows to the man. Hiroi-sensei pays him no mind as he goes to fetch the equipment. _If I hurt someone..._

(Remember that flower pot. A second, Izuku. A _**second**_.)

 _...I'll never forgive myself._

Endeavor's long gone by the time the training starts. Izuku silently watched his father walk into the room adjoined to this one, shutting the slide doors behind him. He hadn't looked back once, and soon the green haired boy could hear two people shuffling around on the other side.

' _I need to focus on him if he's ever going to be the hero who surpasses All Might.'_

There is was again, that icy sense of dread curling in his stomach. After the incident with the All Might toy, Izuku didn't know what to think about his father. Some faint part of him was relieved that Endeavor wasn't teaching directly but seeing him leave still left him with the bitter taste of disappointment in his mouth.

….and that brought him shame.

Why was he thinking that? The fact he was here at all is evidence that his father cared about him. He'd bothered enough to bring him here, saving Izuku the trouble of having to figure out his powers by himself without risking burning anything -or anyone. Endeavor went as far as to give him his own private tutor for his fire Quirk.

He couldn't fail him.

"Again!"

Kneeling on the floor Izuku grinds his teeth, clenches his fists and _pulls_ , fighting the steel grip clutching his lungs like a compressor. When the fire manifest on the candle to his right, it crackles in a way that reminds him of the time he'd sat by the window with his mother one cold summer night, watching lightning dance across black skies in awe-inspiring streaks of light, erratic and wild.

Hiroi-sensei has him sitting in the middle of the room, six candles arranged in a circle a arm's length around him; the goal of this first exercise is to figure out how his Quirk activated in the first place.

"Put it out." Izuku grips the fire with his mind and does as told. Hiroi-sensei was peering down at him imperiously, uninterested. "Close your eyes and do it again. Light the candle to your left." Despite his obvious disdain, Hiroi-sensei was effective. Strict, dry and to the point.

 _He's checking if it's a visual-based Quirk?_

A part of Izuku wanted to tell him that he already knew the answer to that. He hadn't been concentrating when Kacchan pushed him around in the playground but he had been looking down when it first manifested, so that confirmed the hypothesis (Izuku really liked that word, it felt very smooth and nice on his tongue) that it required visibility with the target to activate. Good thing too, otherwise seeing as Kacchan had been the one antagonizing him he might have been the one to-

Wait.

No.

Bad thoughts.

 _Don't go there._

"Izuku."

 _Fucking hell,_ a tiny voice that sounded like Kacchan muttered in his ears and frankly, Izuku agreed. This was getting old. This was useless. He was being useless.

"I don't think I can do it without a visual." Izuku tells his tutor. The words taste bland to his ears.

A grunt.

"Try it anyways."

Izuku forces down a sigh. Closing his eyes as instructed, he reaches into his chest and _pulls_ , tugging a piece of his fire free. He pictures the candlestick in his mind, to his right just out of his reach, waiting to be lit. It takes little effort to send the fire hurling at it.

He's not looking at the candle, but Izuku hears the sudden woosh and crackle as it catches on fire.

The green-haired boy would be proud if he wasn't in such _pain_. It takes every single drop of willpower, accumulated during the past year of dealing with Kacchan and the other children, to keep himself from whimpering at the caved-in sensation in his ribcage. It doesn't stop the faint jolt and shudder his body gave out.

It's getting worse.

(Why was it getting worse?)

"You don't need to move to activate it." Izuku barely heard his tutor's contemplative voice over the ache spreading in his chest. Focus. In and out. He could do this. The next sound the man makes is a soft tut. Proud? No. Hiroi-sensei was too aloof for that. "Neither does it needs a visual connection, but it's harder, isn't it? I saw you flinch. Hm." A pause. "We can work on that. You also need better spatial awareness. Your fire's eating at the floor. Put it out."

 _Eh?_ Izuku blinks, turning his head to look at the candle. The fire's not on it at all -rather, there was no candle anymore, and the tatami matt around it was looking worse for wear, and the wood flooring underneath looked brittle and blackened. Stunned, he sits there gaping at the mess that he's making.

Oh. _Oh._

This time Izuku couldn't fault himself for panicking. He doesn't as much as pull at the fire as he _yanks_ at it like he's fighting to land a fish. It dies out and returns to him, fluttering in his ribcage like a exasperated bird.

"Oh, oh no! I'm sorry, Hiroi-sensei!"

The man only huffs in reply.

"Don't do it again." He walks in front of the smoking, blackened mess Izuku had made out of the floor, tiptoeing around the unstable flooring. It creaks and groans, but doesn't give away. Thankfully. "This was non-flammable, geez kid…"

Izuku bowed his head, staring at his knees. He felt his cheeks burn hot from embarrassment. "It won't happen a-again."

"See to it." The man says delicately, his tone uninterested.

 _I will,_ his student thinks, pressing his lips together.

As his tutor went to fetch another candle, Izuku sneaked a glance at the other training room. The doors connecting that room with this one were shut, but Izuku could hear the muffled sounds of fighting and if he squinted, he could see flashes of orange-red from behind the thin papery walls, marking the silhouettes of a tall man and a small child, locked together in combat.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

"Father," Izuku breathes as he sees the large man walk past his open bedroom door. Immediately he stumbles to his feet, his All Might figurine forgotten on his futon as he trots to the door. He pokes his head out as the pro-hero hurriedly walked past him. "Father I was wondering i-if I could maybe call-"

Endeavor didn't even pause. Within moments he's out of sight again.

Izuku deflates.

 _He's just busy._ He rationalizes. _He's one of the greatest heroes of the modern day, he has a lot to do between handling villains and running his agency._

 _He has more important things to do._

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

He barely sees Shoto.

Izuku tries, he tries _really_ hard because he wants to get to know the other boy, but he barely sees him around the house. Endeavor had all but monopolized Shoto's time, and when the two-toned boy had any ounce of free time he spends it holled up in his room, or in a abandoned room at the end of the hall that Izuku had peaked at but only found a very dusty bedroom that smelled faintly of flowers.

Maybe Shoto can't bear the atmosphere of the house either?

The questions burned at the tip of his tongue, but Izuku never let them tumble past his lips. Endeavor's cold, detached demeanor left him hesitant to approach his older brother. For all he knew, Shoto could be just as...as _Endeavor_ as his father. It's a strange way of putting it, but that's the only way Izuku could describe it. It's been over a week since he'd arrived, but the memory of Shoto's glare was fresh in his mind.

So he results to satisfying his curiosity by watching his sibling from afar.

Izuku knew it was a bad, no good, very bad idea -Kacchan had called his behavior stalking (which is was not, he was _observing_ ) and that hurt as much as the explosions he received as punishment- but short of accosting the other boy in the middle of the night, he couldn't meet Shoto otherwise since their schedules were so charged. Besides, Izuku was good at it, and Shoto's behavior when they met...

(It hurt.)

Shoto, he found, barely left his room. Most often than not the only times the door opened was when Fuyumi came around to bring him food. There's times that he sees the other Todoroki going to be bathroom for basic hygiene or to train with Endeavor but besides that, Izuku barely saw the two-toned boy around the house. His older brother seemed like a ghost drifting at the edge of his vision, taunting him with his presence.

Even worse than Natsuo, who he'd finally met five days after arriving.

That had been a strange meeting.

" _So you're Izuku."_

 _The green-eyed boy blinked, startled. Slowly, he looked up from his book on Quirk history he'd been reading while curled up on the couch. A young boy stood in front of him, his pale hair gleaming under the living room lights. He was tall and gangly, wearing a light yellow shirt and dark pants._

 _Izuku had never seen him before, and startled panic rose up at the sight of the stranger -only to fizzle out of existence when their eyes met. The pale-haired teen had dark, steel grey eyes, sharp and glinting with interest. He'd seen an eye like his but full of disdain and hatred._

 _Those were Shoto's eyes. Izuku knew immediately that this boy was one of his siblings. Opening his mouth, he mentally raced through the list of names that Fuyumi had given him before speaking hesitantly:_

" _Touya?" He asked._

 _The taller boy coughed, expression twisting into a grimace. "Natsuo." He said to Izuku's silent mortification. "Big bro barely comes here."_

" _Oh." Izuku blushed. He swung his legs nervously. "I-I didn't recognize you. Sorry."_

 _The white-haired boy tilted his head at him, squinting. "...you've met me before?"_

" _I heard you screaming." Izuku started quietly, remembering that night with dread. Not even the worst of Kacchan's angry tirades had matched the sheer spite and hatred he'd heard that night. "At dad."_

 _Something in the older boy's eyes darkened. "Hm." He flopped next to Izuku, who squeaked as he bounced on the couch from the sudden weight. "_ _ **Father**_ _earned it."_

 _Silence. Izuku fidgeted, his hands tightening on the book. He stared at the pages without reading them, the words on the paper blurring. "O-oh."_

 _This was awkward._

 _He jumped a bit when he felt a hand rest on top of his head. Huh? Shifting in his seat, he turns to look at Natsuo, peering at the older boy questioningly. Natsuo only grins in return, softer and more open, the hand on his green hair ruffling the soft curls. The action sent warmth spreading through the youngest' body, revitalizing him._

 _The cold, chafing void in his ribcage lessened._

 _If only for a moment._

" _So," Natsuo began, scooting closer to Izuku's side, eyes drifting to the open book. Izuku's eyelashes fluttered as he felt the warmth emanating from his brother's body pressing against his own; it melted the anxiety right out of him and he couldn't help but relax, slumping slightly against Natsuo's side. "...whatcha reading, little guy?"_

 _For the first time in what felt like a eternity, Izuku's lips twisted into a true, honest smile._

Meeting Natsuo was a balm on Izuku's heartache. He liked Fuyumi, he really did, but she lacked the same willfire his older brother had. Izuku could only wonder if Touya was the same. Maybe that was why he wasn't here? How old was he, compared to Fuyumi?

(Where was he?)

At least he had Shoto.

His other older brother, who was capitalizing Endeavor's attention. Something a tiny, selfish part of Izuku felt grateful for.

He'd understood that feeling more the longer he spent watching the two-toned boy. On the rare times Hiroi-sensei doesn't come to the house to train him but Endeavor was home, Izuku took to observing Shoto's training. By doing that, he quickly found out how much of a relief it was that his father wasn't training him.

Frankly, Endeavor's teaching methods were _brutal_.

It was a mixture of combat and Quirk training. Izuku watched from the sliding doors, tranfixiated by their duels that sent fire rising high above their heads and ice spreading across the matt. If Endeavor noticed his youngest son watching them train, he never spared a glance at him.

All of his attention was on Shoto.

Shoto, who fought with lips twisted into a grimace and tears in his eyes. Shoto, who glanced at Izuku from the corner of his eyes but still managed to dodge their father's fist. Shoto, who fell and stood up and fell again but never gave up.

 _Shoto_ , who reminded him of Kacchan too much, with the way he fought made him seem like he was a wild thing tearing at the seams, baring his teeth at Endeavor defiantly and keeping his head high. Izuku didn't know how he did it. His older brother was _tiny_ compared to the massive titan that was their father.

The bandages over his eye only made it worse.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

" _What do you want?"_

Izuku yelps at the unexpected shout and falls forward, accidentally opening the bedroom door and falling flat on his face. The green haired boy groaned as he picked himself up, rubbing his sore nose.

Sheepishly, he looks up.

Shoto seems nonplussed by his accident, staring at him through a single, narrowed grey eye, his expression just shy of annoyed. He reminded Izuku of Kacchan. All sharp edges and bristling.

"Get out."

Izuku forces down a shudder, but he refused to run away. Here's hoping his brother's Quirk wasn't as destructive. Even Kacchan had a softer side to him, and if Shoto was anything like his childhood friend, maybe _just maybe_ -

"I said get out!"

"But-"

" _ **Out!"**_

Why did that burn down to his heart? Even with his classmates' taunts and sneers, even with Kacchan's fire and spite, Izuku wasn't used to the disdain exhuming out of Shoto, that sheer quiet _hostility_ that made his muscles tense up with the need to flee. It was different than Kacchan's prideful anger, who lashed out at useless, Quirkless Izuku because he was in the way and made a suitable target. This was more personal.

If his father made him feel scared and small, Shoto made him feel like he shouldn't exist...and Izuku knew shouldn't be feeling that. He shouldn't be fighting the urge to run away from Shoto. From _family_.

Why was this happening?

(Why was everything _wrong_ in this house?)

Izuku couldn't help it; it felt like a dam had been broken. Suddenly everything he'd pent up crashed down on his shoulders and his body just gave in. He started sobbing. Loudly. Big fat tears rolled down his cheeks before he even got a word in.

Oh. This was humiliating. His cheeks burned, but he couldn't stop.

His older brother startled at the wretched wail, his single grey eye widening like a dinner plate as he stumbled back, clearly not expecting such loud sounds from the other boy. Through the river of tears and the sniffles he was trying to choke down in a vain attempt to regain composure, Izuku watched as the other boy fidgeted in front of him. His hands rose from his side, almost reaching for Izuku only to fall back down -and rise again in a cycle that reeked of uncertainty.

"Why are you crying." Shoto's voice is oddly flat, perplexed. Then it wavers. " _Stop crying."_ He tells Izuku sharply, tone wavering. It's the most Izuku heard him speak since he'd arrived.

Izuku would be happier about it if he wasn't suffocating in his own tears and snot. _Kacchan always said I was a crybaby._

"I-I'm 'orry!" He sniffs, hiccuping.

Shoto's expression grew more befuddled. He looked a little bit lost and when he spoke next, his voice was a higher pitch. "I said stop it!"

"I can't help it!" Izuku cries just a tiny bit more hysterically because it's true, he's going to die from crying and nothing he could do was going to stop it from happening.

"S-stupid!" Shoto hisses, aggravated. "Of course you can!"

Izuku tries. He really does, but he couldn't. He kept crying, squinting as his vision grew blurrier and blurrier. It's like the cork had popped off and now he could only let the water burst free. All of his fears, frustrations and shame coming out into the open air.

He hears Shoto sigh dejectedly. At this point he wasn't blaming his older brother's reaction.

Great.

This was a great first impression.

 _-useless useless useless useless useless-_

It took a moment for him to register the warmth. Even more, to notice the short arms wrapped around his shoulders, and the bandaged face tucked close against his neck.

 _He's hugging me?_ In his shock, Izuku stops his tearful, uncontrolled sobbing. Shoto stepped away from him before Izuku could wrap his arms around him in return, expression pinched and shoulders hunched. There's pink blossoming on his exposed cheek.

"There," The older boy tells him. "Stop crying." He nervously scratches at his bandages. By doing so, the gauze lifts slightly, exposing scabs, delicate, thin skin that gleamed under the light and reddened, inflamed flesh soaked in ointment.

Izuku was struck stiff at the sight of the wound, tears forgotten. "Don't do that." He told him sharply.

He jolts, hand rising to cover his traitorous mouth. He shouldn't have done that. Both children froze at the surprisingly harsh voice. There was a invisible line, and he'd just crossed it. Izuku wilted slightly at the dark, offended look Shoto offered him; even with one eye, he was scarier and more intimidating than _Kacchan_ , and his brother wasn't furious like the blond boy was when he accosted Izuku.

It was more of a regal, quiet anger, the one you had to stifle in your mouth before it left your lips and you said things you couldn't take back. It was the kind of anger that wasn't directed at Izuku per say, but close. Like Izuku was part of the problem, but not the main source of his ire.

Natsuo's spiteful words floated to the front of his mind.

' _ **Father**_ _earned it.'_

It takes a moment for him to wrestle his tongue back into working order to explain himself. "I-it's not good for you. It's a burn, right? You'll make it worse." Izuku murmured, nodding his head towards Shoto.

The older boy narrowed his eyes. "How do you know?"

Izuku squirms, uncomfortable. "I once saw Fuyumi bring you some burn cream." _I wasn't watching your bedroom, no no no. Please don't think I'm creepy._ "S-so…" Eyes hardening, he straightens his spine a bit and looked at the taller child in the eyes. "...don't do it, you'll just hurt yourself."

A pause. The look in his older brother's eye was indecipherable. Izuku barely kept his composure.

"Like I care what you say." Shoto finally says, turning his head away. Izuku watched his nose wrinkle, causing the bandages to shift on his face. He's suddenly struck with the image of a great bird tangled in a net, turning away help despite the trouble it was in. "What do _you_ know about burns."

"...I know enough." Izuku mumbles as he withers, shoulders hunching and he knows he'd lost the meager sliver of interest Shoto had directed at him.

He didn't have the heart to tell Shoto he knew plenty of burns and how to treat them. This past year Kacchan had been especially vicious with him, their previous friendship withering away as the blond boy became more and more drunk on his Quirk's power and his classmates' cheering. Izuku, Quirkless, had been the perfect target. Plenty of times he'd ended up in the infirmary, skin bruised and blackened by explosions.

Shoto deflates.

"Just go." The two-toned boy murmured, jerking his head towards the door. "You wouldn't want _him_ to catch you here. I'm supposed to be studying. If he found you distracting me…"

A sharp spike of something stabbed through Izuku's spine at the thought.

Yeah, no. He wasn't going there. If what Shoto said was true, he had been risking his father's ire without even knowing.

Izuku remembers Shoto training, the brutal efficiency in which Endeavor put him to the ground. He's not sure he's strong enough to experience that.

"O-oh, okay then." Izuku nodded rapidly, hands wriggling at the edge of his clothing. For a moment he took a step towards the bigger child, left hand leaving his clothing to reach for Shoto -then he caught himself and shuffled away, embarrassed. "Bye, niisan."

He darts to the door, feet tapping almost silently against the tatami matt. Exiting the bedroom, he paused just outside, hand resting on the doorknob as the door slowly closed behind him.

Then he hears it.

"Goodbye, otouto."

Soft. Not-warm, but close.

Less like Natsuo and more like Fuyumi.

A little secret, just between the two of them.

Izuku slides the door shut behind him. When he walks down the hallway to his room, he can't stop a tiny, fragile smile from twisting his lips.

It wasn't much, but it was a start.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

It's nearly a month later when he finally leaves the house. That morning Izuku blinked awake to Fuyumi knocking furiously at his door and telling him to get ready. He barely has the time to open his bedroom door before she's darting in, hovering over him like a anxious hummingbird.

It's the most lively he'd ever seen her. She reminded him of Inko, in a way, for how she liked taking care of him.

"What does he want?" Izuku had asked then, yawning softly as he folds his futon and searches for a good set of clothes and his red shoes. At this point, there was no need to say his name.

Izuku learned that within two weeks.

"He wants you at the door in 10. There's a car waiting for you." Fuyumi tells him with a hesitant voice. She nods her head at the door, motionning him to hurry. "I was getting ready to go to school, so share my breakfast before you leave."

Izuku jerked his head towards her, startled. "O-oh. Thank you, but there's no need-"

"It's okay," She replied, waving him off with a tiny smile. "I don't have time to make more for you, so share with me. You don't want to be late."

The warning in her normally soft and meek voice was enough to get Izuku to shut up and _move_.

Alight with a sense of urgency, he goes through his closet for proper clothes. He doesn't know what his father wants, but he didn't want to go through the same problem as when he'd first arrived. That hopeless feeling of standing out, of being other had stuck to Izuku's skin like tar.

 _That still leaves…_ Izuku surveilled his closet, feeling a bit lost. His tiny pile of clothes from...home were left on the side, tucked in the same shelf he'd left them on the first day. His gym bag was right under it, keeping his most precious belongings safe.

More clothes had been added to his wardrobe, soft white shirts and black pants and comfortable workout clothes. There were also more formal clothing, including a few suits made of a strange, smooth and cool fabric that made Izuku want to curl up in them and go to sleep.

 _It's silk,_ Fuyumi told him at one point when he first noticed it. He'd nearly dropped the folded laundry at that. Wasn't that the really expensive fabric Kaa-san's favorite green dress was made of? And he had a whole _pile_ of it?!

In the end, it didn't really matter what he wore.

He's barely in the car nine minutes later before the driver takes off, clearly in a rush to get somewhere. Izuku doesn't know where he's going, but he's too terrified to ask. He's unsure if he even wants to ask. Fuyumi's poached egg and steamed rice sludges uneasily in his stomach and he has to sit there, still and tense, fighting the rising nausea that threatens to overtake him.

Then the car stops, the door on the other side opens and Izuku's no longer still but frozen stiff as Endeavor, complete with hero costume, enters the vehicle and sits next to him. His fire is but a dim flame, but the sight of his father in full combat regalia is enough to shock Izuku into a stupor.

For the first few moments after the car starts moving again, his father doesn't speak, merely staring ahead, expression set and hard.

Then he slowly turns his face to pin Izuku with a somber stare.

"We will be attending a event." He rumbles, and Izuku watches as the flames on his face twist and curl slowly, elegantly. It was so much different than his fire during Hiroi-sensei's training sessions, his own too jagged and rowdy. "I want you to _behave_. Can you do that, Izuku?"

If breathing was a option before, it wasn't now. Izuku's pinned in place by anxiety; his previous nausea is gone, and he feels too hard and cold like a piece of marble. And so he nods in response, his throat too dry to muster up a word, much less a proper sentence.

Endeavor's eyes narrow at his response, but he begrudgingly accepts it by the way he turns back to look at the front of the car, aquamarine eyes dark and set.

The next half hour is spent in oppressing, suffocating silence.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

The building they enter was tall and lavish, even more than the Todoroki house.

Worse, people were staring at him. There were no other children -only adults as far as the eye could see, dozens of them, all watching him with interest. More than one were reaching for their phones and most already had theirs in their hands. All of these devices were without exception pointed at Izuku.

 _They're looking at me. Not father,_ _ **me**_. If there was air in Izuku's lungs before, the last slivers of it were long gone.

He would be frozen stiff, feet rooted to the ground if it wasn't for Endeavor's broad hand on his back pushing him along. The pro-hero wastes no time leading him to a elevator; a bit of wiggling and standing on his toes to peer past a old woman as tells him that it's bringing them to the sixth floor.

He's led through a empty hallway and shown to a large room. As soon as he enters, a triad of adults are on him, cooing softly as they lead him to a tall chair. Startled, Izuku tries to shy away and hide but Endeavor was already gently pushing him forward; the green haired boy only caught his cool command to _behave, Izuku_ before the pro-hero left, closing the door behind him.

His stomach dropped at the abandonment, but he stifled the spike of fear down with practiced ease.

The green shirt, black pants and his red shoes that he'd thrown on before leaving were all but ripped off him by the frantic women, who buzzed around him like panicked bees, exchanging words too quickly for him to understand while throwing clothes at each other. Izuku watched, shocked quiet, as they jabbed their fingers at him, pointed at different strange clothes and yelled even louder at each other.

Izuku's faintly light headed from all the attention. The room is massive, there's mirrors, clothes and makeup on every available surface. It's terrifying.

"No, go with this one-"

"Think will let us cut his son's hair a bit, it's a mess-"

"No, we don't have the time. Just brush and stylize it!"

"Green or black?"

"Red unlikely, it will clash with his eyes and hair-"

"-plain-looking, need to bring out his eyes more-"

Brushing? Stylizing?

Wait, were these clothes people -what was the name again? Tailors? Tailors. Maybe. He would have to consult his dictionary later.

The question of what they were doing was answered a few minutes -spent in quiet mortification as as these strangers argued fiercely over his head- later was answered when two pieces of clothing were all but shoved into his face.

One's a dark red. The other is black. Kimonos, and fancy ones at that. Shyly, he points for the black one.

(The red one makes his blood curdle.)

Half a minute later, he's regretting the choice thoroughly when it's forced over his head. Izuku can only sit still as it's strapped on and his hair becomes their next target. By the way the tallest woman is going at it with a brush, she might as well be ripping chunks of green hair out of his scapula.

A second woman passes the next five minutes huncher over him, applying something on his face that makes Izuku want to sneeze. He really, terribly wants to ask her what she's doing, but she told him with a strict voice to close his eyes until her say so and despite how the powder(?) makes him want to wrinkle his nose and pull away, he doesn't want to cause trouble.

Plus, her touches are kind despite her swift movement. She's in a hurry, but not enough to disregard his comfort. Well, at least not fully. For once, Izuku feels like he can safely mellow out in his seat. The hair-pulling didn't even hurt that much.

When he's allowed to open his eyes again, the women coo at him softly and pet his hair -which feels lighter than ever, as Kacchan would say what _the fuck_ were they doing to him-

Then his father steps back into the room and the gradual relaxation izuku had been feeling shrivels up and dies with him. Endeavor glances at him up and down, seemingly satisfied before he turns to the eldest of the three women, speaking to her gruffly, but politely.

"We had to use one of the smaller sets. He's too thin," He hears her tell Endeavor. At that point, Izuku was feeling more like a dressed up doll than anything else. His head spun. "I don't know what his mother's been feeding him, but it's clearly not enough."

"I'll get him a doctor." His father's reply is short and courteous. Izuku could hear the restraint.

Was...was it that bad?

He didn't remember having any issue with his weight. Kaa-san always fed him well and he never went hungry, so why…? Befuddled, Izuku's gaze turned to his reflection in the nearest mirror. It's small, barely big enough to show his head, but it's enough.

Oh. Izuku shuffled closer to the mirror, tilting his head at his image. Had his skin always looked this pale? His eyes this glassy? There were no shadows under his eyes, but when he turned his head to the side he could see the faint shimmer of makeup on his skin.

The boy in the mirror looks brittle.

Of glass and bones held by threads about to snap.

(Suffocating.)

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

"Come along, Izuku."

He can't breathe.

He smiles at the crowd, a perfect shy smile that betrays nothing of how the flashes of the cameras were blinding him and leaving spots in his vision. Endeavor's hand is a burning weight on his upper back, fingers spilling on either of his shoulders.

The delicate black kimono feels tight on him. Gelled and stylized, his hair stinks of products and the smell of alcohol encompasses his nose. Stiff, rigid shoes and silk socks trap his feet, chafing his skin and making his toes numb from the lack of circulation.

Still he smiles.

The masses were surrounding him on all sides, pressing for answers, demanding photos, shouting questions. Only his father's presence keeps them at bay. Izuku wants to curl up, shy away into his father's legs to block out the general chaos of the press conference, but he can't. The thinnest thread of will keeps him still. He can barely stop his body from trembling.

 _Do not disappoint him._ It repeats in his head like a matras, carving deeper and deeper into his skull until it's the only thing he can hear. He tucks himself closer to his father. The crowd cooes and awes. Their voices are sharp knives into his psyche.

Izuku is scared; he's _terrified_. Nearly a month ago, he'd been a Quirkless nobody of a single mother and the impossible dream of becoming a hero. Now he was the son of the Number Two Hero, and his face was washed white by the flashes of the cameras.

(Deep down, Izuku knows what which he prefers. Warmth and tea in the afternoon and smiles exchanged under the light of the television. _Home_.)

Because the adult next to Endeavor is talking to the crowd -the press- with a speakerphone, and with every passing word a knife is driven into Izuku's guts because it's all wrong and he can't muster up the strength to talk. Not with his father's hand on his back, a silent, threatening omen.

"It might be a surprise, but Endeavor knows what he's done and he takes this very seriously-"

The crowd roars. Izuku's head spins.

"-it began not five years ago during the brief affair, but long before that. Todoroki Rei has always been a erratic individual, so Mr. Todoroki had a moment of weakness-"

He can barely keep his eyes open. Any more and he's sagging against his father.

"-it was a unfortunate event, what Todoroki Rei did to young Shoto, but after her episode Endeavor could not stand idle by anymore and watch her hurt his children."

A blink. Wait, did she say-

"-she has been admitted to a mental ward where she remains to this day, so she can never harm anyone ever again."

Shoto. Oh god, Shoto. His poor brother. How could his mother do that to his son? Just the thought of Inko ever doing that to him makes him want to retch until he had nothing but bile to offer up. Was this why the other boy was always so mad? Was this why he hated Endeavor so much?

Wait, was this the first time his father revealed this to the world? Why tell Japan about Shoto's injury, why now...?

Oh.

Izuku had always been bad at spotting excuses...but in the eye of the storm, he sees the truth. It's so clear and painful.

"Due to the gravity of the situation, Endeavor saw fit to make a more personal impact in the life of his youngest son, Todoroki Izuku-"

 _-nononono that sounded wrong why Todoroki it didn't feel good he was_ _ **Midoriya-**_

In the end, Endeavor has to practically pick him up and carry him to the car.

(The crowd croons sweetly in response, and it takes every ounce of will in his body for Izuku not to let the fire out.)

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

The skies are black and full of stars when the car pulls into the driveway.

It's quiet.

Dark.

The house is even worse.

The only sound Izuku could hear was the noise he made as he breathed -a tiny, short breath- and the crackle of Endeavor's flames. The later fades away to nothingness as his father points him towards the sleeping quarters before walking off to the opposite side of the house, where Izuku learned his office was. It leaves him standing in the hall in his kimono, feeling uncertain and forsaken.

He walks into the sleeping hall, the thick robe weighing him down. His polished shoes clatter against the floor no matter how hard he tries, a loud clack clack clack that grates his ears and makes his heart twist and shrink into itself. It's a painful sensation.

It's nothing compared to what he feels when he spots Shoto standing in front of his bedroom, blocking the way.

That single grey eye is terrifyingly cold, and his expression could only be described as livid. Izuku immediately knows what he's after.

' _-she has been admitted to a mental ward, so she can never harm anyone ever again-'_

Shoto had heard. He must have watched the news.

Izuku's tongue feels like lead in his mouth. Weakly, he croaks out. "I'm sorry, niisan. I didn't know-"

"Shut up." Shoto snarls, his bandaged face twisting with something vicious as he takes a step towards him. They're but a arm's reach away now, but for Izuku it feels like miles.

That sharp, hard tone has Izuku's jaw snap shut. The malice in those words, that dark anger -Endeavor's face floats to the front of his mind, massive and out of this world and _glaring_ down at Izuku like he's nothing but a ant.

"It's Shoto." His brother hisses, and it's another blunt blow to Izuku's lungs. "-and it doesn't matter if you knew or not. You went along with it. You...you let them, let him say those things about her."

The frigid stare he gave drove the last ounces of air in Izuku's lungs out.

" _I hate you."_

Izuku heard those words too often in his life. But they were never had so much meaning, never held so much animosity until now.

Rendered breathless, voiceless, he's unable to muster up a reply.

So Shoto walks past him, ramming his shoulder against his in the process and dragging out a startled, pained gasp out of him. The older boy's gone before Izuku can get another word out in his defence, slipping back into his own room and snapping the door shut behind him.

This leaves Izuku standing there, once again.

Lost.

He wobbles his way into his bedroom, not even bothering with the door when he all but crumbles on top of his futon, shuddering. Izuku barely chokes down his cries as he twists on the bedding, curling up on the covers -only for the kimono's collar to dig into his neck and force him to get up and all but rip it off with a small growl.

Left in a undershirt, he barely has the strength to grab his pijama from under his pillow and put it on. Doing this however, his hand brushes the pillow aside and exposes a familiar figurine adorned with a large, toothy smile.

The twin golden tuffs atop of All Might's hair gleam silver in the moonlight.

Izuku picks it up, staring at it blankly. It felt like it had been a lifetime ago when he bought it.

He picked the toy with the allowance Inko had given him after he'd landed one of his exams. He'd been just four then, dragging Kacchan along by his wrist because mother and Aunt Mitsuki didn't allow them to wander in the streets alone. The toy shop had been beautiful, lit in dazzling arrays of colors as it held merchandise from all over Japan. Both boys had been completely captivated.

 _So I can have him with me everywhere, duh!_ He'd told Kacchan when the blond had asked him why he'd bought such a tiny figurine. Because limited or not, it was _small_. Katsuki had mocked him for it enough that Izuku didn't end up carrying it with him everywhere in his pockets as originally planned, but he'd always kept it in his backpack, just within reach.

Those had been the good days.

Now though, when he looks at it...

He remembers Endeavor's hateful gaze, the bulging of his biceps as he curls his hand tight around the figurine, the warmth of the plastic when he cradles it in his own hands after rescuing the toy.

' _I need to focus on him if he's ever going to be the hero who surpasses All Might.'_

All Might.

 _ **Always All Might.**_

Was that why Endeavor took him from Inko? Was that all that was to it, what Izuku really was? Just a pawn, a stepping stone for Shoto -for his father's desire for power?

The Quirkless boy, now reduced to his Quirk.

The bitter irony had him drowning. With a choked snarl, Izuku throws the figurine away. It hits the wall with a quiet thud and clatters to the ground.

For a moment Izuku wants to get up and throw it again. He wants to smash it to the ground, to burn it to ash and cinder until nothing remained of its existence but the faint smell of burnt plastic. It takes the distressed boy a herculean amount of will to not just let go, to let the fire just burn everything until Izuku was the only thing left in this stupid, _stupid_ house filled with people who were more manikins than actual human beings.

You can't, he hears himself say in his head. Izuku groans and clutches his head,

He repeats it in his head, over and over again until the fire bends and _shrinks_ , curling into a smaller and smaller ball within his chest. He imagines the onyx flames in his head, tiny and sputtering under the cold terror and overwhelming anguish freezing his veins. No longer soft and colorful like the first time, nor wild and spastic as it ate through the floor.

Just there.

Hanging on.

All at once, Izuku feels even more empty, if that was possible. There's little inside him but a wilted flame, and strangely, he isn't bothered by this. If anything...he feels better.

Detached.

(Burnt up.)

He's sitting there in the darkness, staring at the wall with vacant eyes when he hears it.

"You're still awake."

Izuku's dull green eyes slowly shift to the door.

Endeavor's standing at the entrance of his bedroom, hand on the doorknob. His expression was unreadable and his eyes guarded. The fire on his face had all but fizzled out, leaving only two tiny candle-like flames under his nose.

Strangely enough, Izuku feels nothing at the sudden appearance of the pro-hero. Was he that out of it?

(He was just so tired. So, so _tired_.)

"I expected you to be asleep, Izuku. Training will begin early."

Izuku docily bows his head in apology. "Sorry, sir."

He shuffles down, sliding into his futon and pulling the thick covers over his head. There, he curls up and tucks his knees into his chest, folding into himself in a attempt to create even the slightest bit of warmth. Izuku waits, heart cold and dead in his chest, fire strangely quiet and pliant in his ribcage.

The freckled boy hears his father's heavy footsteps fade away into the night. It's only then that something breaks and he starts to shiver, green eyes squeezing shut. Izuku's fingers dig into the flesh of his legs, nails biting into his skin to the point of bruising.

The memory of Shoto's blistering, hateful glare is burned into his retinas.

That night, Izuku goes to sleep in tears.

* * *

 **Yes yes, fuck me right? I'm a cruel, cruel woman.**

 **I can't believe the hours I spent googling legitimacy in japan. Holy crap, that took a while, Im so glad I did it two days ago while I was writing the first chapter.**

 **What Endeavor and his PR team is doing here is playing the media like a fiddle -they're trading the secret of Rei's hospitalization to shield the Todoroki household from the mark of 'bastard child', effectively arguing that even before Rei was even pregnant with Shoto, she was unstable and caused Endeavor to seek bonds with others, resulting in Izuku and after the incident, Enji decided to reach out and retrieve his youngest son out of a sense of duty.**


	4. Chapter 4

**So listen up, this thing was supposed to be done like yesterday, so I had the entire weekend to study.** _ **Unfortunately**_ **, that nice little plan got derailed and went off a cliff on wednesday cuz I found a fuckin' pidgeon. I was minding my own business after school when I found the lil thing tucked in against a fence, spazzing out. It was obviously sick, so I used my sweater to wrap it up and then walked to my dad's work nearby so I could go home, or go to the vet depending how bad it was.**

 **It perked up during my walk, so I let it go. Worst mistake of my life. It flew off wobbly into traffic, clearly nowhere near well enough to be on it's own. So I ran after it like a moron, screeching plus ultra inside my head while I was chasing the fucking pidgeon because I was gonna die of embarrassment at the fact that I'm rushing out into slow traffic after a drowsy bird like a crazy maniac which I guess I am, but** _ **still**_ **. I managed to catch it in the end, but still. Urgh. It's saturday, and it's recovering really well. Tame as f too, it likes to sleep on my computer due to the warmth it generates.**

 **Silly bugger.**

 **Anyhow, rant over.**

* * *

The next morning, waking up felt like crawling out of the mud only to get lost in the fog.

Izuku gazed with unseeing eyes at his hands resting against his chest, the long, slender fingers inexplicably pale and thin against the soft dark fabric of his shirt. The green-haired boy was curled up on his side, hands and knees drawn in, toes curled tightly and head tucked into his chest while the covers were pulled almost over his hair. He hadn't moved from this position since falling asleep last night, and his muscles and bones were letting him know by feeling aching and cramped.

It wasn't only due to the tight, tucked ball position he'd sleep in that his body hurt, however.

There was something more.

The realization came to him at a snail's crawl. A piercing cold had spread across his limbs during his slumber, numbing his blood and leaving him dazed and disconnected from reality. There was a certain sense of inherent wrongness that came with this feeling; Izuku knew he wasn't supposed to be feeling this cold, that he shouldn't feel like his limbs would creak and strain and _break_ if he dared as much as stretch.

And his flames.

Where there used to be a rumbling beast in his rib cage there was only a tiny, candle-like flame, barely there enough to be recognizable. It tugged at the edges of its cage, tiny kitten licks that were so different from the anxious clawing of before.

A distant part of Izuku knew that this wasn't normal, that the spread of frigid numbness overtaking his body should be alarming him, but he was too tired to care. What happened last night was slowly returning to the forefront of Izuku's mind and for a moment, he considered just laying here for the rest of the day, tucked in bed, sweating cold under the covers, each breath ragged and wheezing as it left his lips.

Then someone knocked on the door.

Izuku's eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks, threatening to close fully. Before the interruption, it felt like his room was the only thing that existed; almost as if the world beyond the door and it's troubles never was to begin with. Endeavor, Shoto, Inko, everything -just gone, leaving him to doze in his bed.

Safe, or as safe as he could be in this house. What a somber thought.

"Izuku?"

He couldn't mistake that tiny, meek voice. The tired child poked his head out from under the covers, calling out softly; "It's unlocked."

"Thanks." The door slowly slide open, revealing Fuyumi standing hesitantly at the door frame. She was wearing a thick wool blouse and a long, dark blue skirt that reached below her knees. "I was wondering if you could have breakfast with me."

 _Not like I'm getting fed otherwise._ Izuku smiles at her gently.

"Sure." He told her as he rose from his futon, tucking the covers back on the bed. Then he went stumbling for his closet, fighting the dizziness that came with moving so quickly in the morning. "What time is it?" He called over his shoulder as he locked the closet door behind him.

"Huh, around seven thirty."

"So you're not going to school?" He asks her as he wrestles to put clean shirt and pants on. His face felt stiff from last night; the makeup the strange ladies had put on stuck to his skin like glue. He needed a bath.

There was no answer for a long time, which confused him. Having dressed, he exits his closet only to find his sister standing there, expression uncertain.

"Izuku," Fuyumi began slowly. "It's saturday."

The smallest Todoroki blinked.

"Oh."

He hadn't even noticed, which was unusual. Izuku remembered how he'd kept track of his school days almost religiously, making sure to study ahead of time for the small tests the teachers would give them.

That reminded him…

"Fuyumi?" The green-haired boy questions, voice low. "When...when do you think I will go back to school?"

The edges of Fuyumi's lips twitched downward. "I overheard Father talking on the phone. He will assign you private tutors for that too."

Izuku stared. "...for school? For _all_ of my school years?"

"Yeah."

Something drops in his stomach. "Oh." His fingers twitch anxiously at his side. "Okay then. Thanks for clearing that up, sister."

There's a tiny part of him that's laughing at himself. Of course. _Of course._ He didn't know why he thought he would still go to his old school; that his father would let him keep some remnant of his time before.

Still, no school at all? Likely, until Yuuei? There's a part of him that wonders, terrified, if he's even going to be allowed outside until then. It's nausea-inducing to think about.

"No problem." Fuyumi hummed, her hands clenching and unclenching on the helm of her blouse. She did that a lot when she was nervous. It was a tick they seemed to share. "Are you coming? I need some help setting up the table for the three of us."

His heart did a painful jolt in his chest, much like a spooked bird.

 _Three?_

"About that. Is…" Izuku pauses, hesitating. He carefully wets his lips, feeling his throat . "...is Shoto in the kitchen?"

Fuyumi tilts her head. He can almost see the gears in her head turning. "No, he's still in his room. He's having breakfast there. Natsuo's eating with us."

"Oh. Alright." He stood up. "I -let me get ready. I'll meet you in the kitchen."

Fuyumi nodded gently. "Hurry though, you don't want the food getting cold." She chided him mildly, turning away to leave as he gets to up to change.

When Izuku leaves his bedroom, he walks past the fallen All Might figurine without sparing a glance.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

"You're getting better." Hiroi-sensei notes as Izuku's fire sits obediently on top of the six candles around him.

The man is kneeling in front of him, just outside the ring of candles. His eyes barely strain from the flames, watching the wax slowly melt down the side of the candles. Izuku sits in the middle, head bent low, silently fighting the pangs of nausea that follow him summoning his fire.

"There's barely any abnormal heat coming from your flames. If it wasn't for the color, I'd say it's regular fire." He purses his lips at the obsidian lights standing still and lifeless on top of the candles. "You've gained control over it, so quickly. Good job kid."

Izuku accepts the praise with a nod.

He doesn't have the heart to tell Hiroi-sensei that it wasn't a matter of control, but of power. Will and strength are things Izuku has been lacking more and more these days and since that disastrous encounter with Shoto, there was hardly a time where he didn't feel like the ground was going to crack open under his feet and swallow him whole. That his body felt on the bring, the frigid cold nestled in his bones threatening to tear his icy flesh at the slightest movement and his blood turn to solid ice in his veins.

It had been only five days since that even with Endeavor, and Izuku was reaching the end of his rope.

He's just so _numb_.

Did he have some latent ice Quirk he wasn't aware of, something like Natsuo or Shoto? No, not possible. Rei was the parent that provided the genetics for ice-type Quirks, and even if it was another facet of the mutated Quirk he possessed. It might have something to do with how cool the flames had felt the first few times he'd summoned it.

As Hiroi-sensei starts droning on about possible fire-based techniques, all deviating from what Endeavor could do, Izuku discretely swipes his fingers on top of the nearest candle.

It's only a passing brush, but it's enough.

The green-haired boy nearly hisses as he pulls back, the tip of his digits stinging something fierce. Ice cold, like the depths of a frozen lake.

Now he gets why the fire was so still.

He shouldn't have expected anything else.

Really, which part of his Quirk was normal, Izuku thinks somberly with a shudder he barely suppresses. Tuning into his teacher's voice, he obediently follows Hiroi-sensei's instructions and lights three candles behind him with a flick of his fingers. It's easier to move when pulling the fire forward, to let the energy flow from his aching, carved chest, down his arm and through his hand. It helped Izuku aim when doing activating his Quirk, allowing him for more precise movements that what simple eye contact could.

His tutor nods in approval, but he barely notices him.

What Izuku doesn't miss is the way the wax melted under the fire, slowly sinking down the length of the candle until it pooled around the iron base in tiny, bubbling lakes of wax.

...and he certainly doesn't miss how when Hiroi-sensei hovers his hand over the fire, the little flames stretch towards the limbs just a tiniest bit, dancing with the smallest bit of vigor they had left.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

One thing he likes about the Todoroki property, Izuku decides, is the garden.

It has five tall trees reaching out for the skies, and perfectly cut bushes and aesthetically placed stones. The main piece of the garden is the pond that sits in the middle, stretching across part of the terrain like a long, silver snake lined by tiny round rocks. A tiny waterfall churns and bubbles quietly off to the side, casting ripples on the calm, mirror-like water.

Koi swim just under the surface, their bright scales and complex patterns glinting under the afternoon sun. The smallest was the size of his fist, while the biggest was as long as his arm. Occasionally the colourful fishes would curiously follow Izuku's shadow as he walked near the edge of the pond, their long, wing-like fins trailing behind them like little ethereal capes as they silently begged for food like the tiny slippery gluttons they were.

Izuku likes it for its seclusion. Apart from himself and the occasional gardener, nobody came here. He wonders why, seeing how beautiful and serene the place was. It was too well taken care of by the staff to not be used. The curious child couldn't help but silently wonder for whom it was built for.

Was it for sweet, gentle Fuyumi, a place for her to rest her kind soul?

Or maybe it was for Natsuo, to quell his fiery heart?

For Shoto, to give him some respite from the expectations and responsibilities that came with being the prized heir?

Or Touya, a place to hide, the reason why he never saw him?

Maybe, just maybe it was instead for Endeavor, a remnant of a time when he was still the hero Izuku had believed him to be and not this strange, towering being that sets his nerves aflame with terror?

Or was it for poor Rei, the monster as described by Endeavor, the loving mother Shoto grieved for?

It didn't matter in the end, though. It wasn't like any of them ever visited this place. Shoto isolated himself to his room, only leaving to eat, train or stretch his limbs. Izuku barely saw him anymore, and he didn't want to. The confrontation the night of the... _event_...had left him apprehensive of even stumbling into the dual haired boy.

Fuyumi was the most present of his family members, but she was either at school, curled up in the living room or her bedroom reading, or cooking in the kitchen. She barely got in his way and had a sixth sense when it came to leaving just before Endeavor entered the room. Having yet to develop that skill, Izuku learned to watch her reactions from the corner of his eyes.

Despite his young age, Natsuo was rarely home. Izuku generally knew if he was because half the time his older brother was on the property he could hear him shouting at their father. On those nights, he rarely got any sleep.

Endeavor was easy to pinpoint on the property, his voice carrying through walls with the strength of a rumbling storm. And if it wasn't his voice, it was the heavy footsteps that foretold his arrival.

As for Touya, Izuku had yet to meet him. He thinks he hears the door of what Fuyumi told him was his bedroom open and close at night, and someone shuffling inside, but those cases were far apart. If it was Touya, the teenager was like a phantom, barely coming to the house only out of sheer necessity.

Izuku wanted to meet him but after experiencing firsthand Shoto's stinging anger, Endeavor's quiet displeasure, Fuyumi's defeated meekness and Natsuo's brash, outraged spirit, he was unsure if meeting the oldest of the Todoroki siblings would be a good thing.

He's my sibling, he thinks as he kicks a small pebble into the pond, watching it sink under the water. The koi swirled around the disturbance in a shimmering cloud of scales, curious and hungry.

It was dizzying to think about, how many people his family now contained. Before it was just him and Inko, the fatherless Midoriya duo who spent their nights curled up together in one bed watching movies, Izuku's freezing toes curling into his mother's belly under the thick covers and eliciting more than one choked laugh from the woman before she would slip away to get him wool socks because _maybe you don't feel it, but your feet are cold, Izuku!_

He let out a broken whine at that, hands rising to wrap around himself.

He misses that.

He misses _her_.

He misses the small house, his stuffy bedroom, his overcrowded classroom, the smell of food in the morning when he passed by the vendors on his way to school. He missed Inko waiting for him at home, chatting with Aunt Mitsuki on the phone who hissed and stomped and roared like a dragon when she was angry. He missed Uncle Masuru helping him with his kanji in the kitchen, peeking over his journals to watch him do homework on the kitchen table.

Izuku let out a shuddering breath, swaying. He hiccuped once, twice, the corner of his eyes stinging no matter how hard he fought against it, no matter how much the cold seeped from the dark and threatened to freeze the tears solid. But even on the greatest expanses of ice there was water underneath and ultimately, it rose up to overthrow the cold. The tears flower freely.

There was just so much that he longed for. He missed so much, he missed-

" _How about Exploboy?"_

 _He couldn't stop the grimace even if he tried._

" _Kacchan, that sounds like one of those counterfeit hero toys." Izuku gently told him, remembering the time he found a cheap plastic 'Too Might' action figure in a old vendor shop. Aunt Mitsuki barely talked him out of buying it out of sheer amusement. To this day, he didn't understand why someone would go for such lengths to make a fake toy line._

" _Fine then! At least it's better than All Might Junior!"_

 _Oh._

 _Oh he did not._

" _Hey!" Red bloomed on Izuku's cheeks as he whipped his head around, his notebook forgotten. It fell to his lap, remaining open on the unfinished page about the blond at his side. "It's a work in progress!" He squawked in outrage._

 _How dare Kacchan tarnish his name choice?! Izuku knew it was kind a bit on the nose, but when he got his Quirk he'll have a better idea of what his hero name could be!_

" _Exactly!" Kacchan exclaimed as he waved his arms around, palms crackling with smoke and fire. "Until I find a better name, I'm going with that!"_

" _Well…" Izuku fidgeted, looking away. Trying to make his friend see reason was like trying to steer a rampaging bull through a busy street. "Kacchan….it sounds silly...not scary…"_

 _Kacchan rears up, gleaming blond hair in disarray and expression fierce, looking offended like one of those colourful peacocks Izuku once saw at the zoo. Smoke and sparks dance at his fingertips, lighting up his face in a red-orange glow._

" _Oi! I'll make you eat those words!"_

 _Izuku takes off with a yelp and a mild crackle, notebook tucked tight under one arm._

How long had that been, the same boy thinks as he walks down the dirt path circling the property. A year and a half, at most? Before Izuku had that dreaded doctor's appointment that changed everything. Sometimes he wished he never pressed Inko into setting up a appointment.

Those had been good times. When Kacchan was still nice, still fierce but not sharp and as angry as he was now. When his Quirk was still only beautiful little bright sparks like firecrackers and not small, burning explosions that bruised Izuku's skin and left him to walk back home alone wearing dusty, dirty clothes.

Not for the first time, Izuku wonders how he's doing now.

Probably didn't even miss him.

Probably glad the formerly useless dead weight was gone. That the dangerous, weak-spined child was out of sight.

 _Don't forget his eyes,_ a gentle, soft voice murmurs in his ears, kind like Fuyumi and familiar like Inko. _He cared. You could see it. He didn't want you gone._

Izuku stopped, expression tightening as he bit his lower lip. His hands crisped at the helm of his shirt; something wet slid down his cheeks.

 _Kacchan didn't care enough to stop this, though._

 _None of them did._

He shrieks.

The tree next to him bursts into wrathful onyx flames.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Inhale.

Exhale.

(It feels good.)

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

"Do you have a death wish?!" He flinches as Endeavor's finger digs into his shoulder, a sharp jab that feels more like a brand than anything else. "You could have gotten yourself killed -you could have burned down the entire property. I thought I made it **clear** you were not to use your Quirk outside of training-"

(Fire dances in his belly. Stronger, but still weak. It hisses angrily at his father's reprimands.)

Did they have that conversation? Or did Endeavor just talk over his head and thought Izuku heard it? Try as he might, he doesn't remember.

Maybe he forgot.

Izuku found that he was doing that a lot, lately.

Things just...slipped by.

"-what happened to that?!"

Silence. Izuku didn't dare look up from the ground. He focuses on trying to keep a steady breathing cycle, but it's hard with the guilt and fear tightening around his throat, a familiar noose that threatens to suffocate him. He stands there in shameful silence, the faint taste of ash still on his tongue.

The garden stands behind him, half smoking. It's missing a tree, a few shrubs and a entire rock. The ground was painted in black scorch marks that twist and streak across the floor, turning the tiny pebbles lining the edges of the water into strange bubbling masses that still sizzle and smoke even after Izuku realized what he was doing and cancelled the flames.

(It rests under his ribs. Still cold, still painful, but less so.)

The koi had vanished into the depths of the pond. Steam gently dances on the water's surface. It's both beautiful and sad to look at.

" **Izuku."**

"I'm sorry." The child finally murmurs, fighting against the instinct to keep looking at the floor as he lifts his gaze to meet burning turquoise.

From behind Endeavor's mass, Izuku can see Fuyumi and Shoto standing at the front door. His sister wasn't looking at him, her hands on her mouth and eyes wide with terror as she takes in the brutalized garden, a expression so stark on her gentle face that it fills Izuku with even more shame.

Shoto's looking at him. His bandages are gone, leaving both of his eyes -one a steely grey and the other a familiar turquoise- to glare holes into Izuku's head. There's a scar covering most of the left side of his face, the new, pinkish-red scar tissue clashing with the paleness of his skin. Izuku knows a burn injury when he sees it, but it's one thing knowing what it was, and witnessing the damage Rei has left on her son.

Suddenly, there's not much beauty left in the smoking, ruined garden. Now it's just sad.

He did this.

With his Quirk.

It was his fault.

(And it could have been so much worse.)

Fighting back tears, he takes a deep breath -it rattles in his chest, not enough, nowhere near enough- and speaks louder and stronger than before; "I lost control. It won't happen again."

His father's nostrils flared.

"See to it. I'll have _words_ with your tutor about this."

Izuku winces.

 _And Hiroi-sensei thought I was doing well._

As Endeavor stomps back to the house, Shoto and Fuyumi already darting inside to avoid the dark cloud hovering over their father's head.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

After burning down part of the garden's shrubbery, he'd been sent to his bed without supper. In all honesty, he's surprised his father didn't look to punish him further, but after a thorough tongue-lashing, Endeavor merely dismisses him.

Izuku didn't mind it though; it was warranted.

What he did was reckless. He acted like a idiot, letting his emotions get to him again. He lost control of his Quirk, _again_.

There's little sleep for him that night.

He tosses and turns on his futon, tries curling up under the covers, throwing them away, sleeping on the bare floor -it's no use. No matter where he turns to, he thinks of ash fluttering in the wind, of steam dancing across smooth water like a little troop of mysterious, ethereal dancers….of Shoto's glare, and the bright color of his burn.

Using the moon's light as his guide, Izuku lifts his arms over the covers and stares at them. He wiggles his fingers, spreading them in the air, watching the tiny shadows they made against one of the bedroom wall.

He gazes at his arms silently, imagining them covered in the same pitted and shiny scar tissue as Shoto's face. He could almost see it, twisting around his forearms, his Quirk branding him from the inside out.

But…

It takes but a thought, to make black flames envelop his arms.

Slick and serpentine, the tongues of onyx fire curve and flutter gently to a invisible wind, weakly glittering with speckled purples and swirling greys that were barely there before. Izuku watches the obsidian fire, only faintly feeling the coldness of the flames. There's no pain; his skin doesn't crack and blister and burn, remaining smooth and unmarked by the flames.

There's just cold.

(How unnatural.)

Sighing, Izuku dismisses the fire and lets his hands drop.

He closes his eyes. Sleep continue to elude Izuku, so he just lays there, hands folded on his chest, and waits. At some point he closes his eyes instead of just staring up at the ceiling, counting the shadows the tree leafs made from outside the window, but he quickly loses track and it dissolves into mindless staring.

Time passes.

The shadows grow longer and longer; the room becomes bathed in lighter and lighter colors until ultimately, it's the sun's soft golden rays that take over the smooth silvers and blues of the moon. Izuku is brought out of his meditative state by the sounds of the living waking up.

He hears Fuyumi shuffling around the house, Natsuo's boisterous voice piercing the calmness of the morning, the roar of the car marking his father leaving the house for work. He can't pick up any sounds from Shoto's room, nor Touya's (as usual), but he knows his older brother is up as soon as the sun peeks over the horizon, doing morning stretches and preparing for his afternoon sessions with their father.

 _I should probably get up, too._

Hiroi-sensei usually held his classes at the same time as his father, but Izuku couldn't lay in bed any longer. He throws the cover off and moves to stand.

He had to get up now. It's better to get started early while he still had-

The world tilts.

For a moment he lays there, cheek pressing against the tatami mat, eyes staring unseeing at the wall. There's a spot of yellow near the base where the All Might toy still sits, abandoned and forgotten. The tiny plastic blue eyes seem to drill into his skull. Silent, but faintly warm with their familiarity.

(When _was_ the last time he watched the debut video? It felt so far away…)

Izuku stares back with his own, dull grey ones. The smile, the damned smile was getting to him, he knew it. It made his spine prickle and the cold twist in his gut, electrified.

When All Might's gaze becomes to much for him, he closes his eyes.

Inhales.

Exhales.

(Why was it getting harder and harder again _it was easier yesterday_ -)

He pushes himself up.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

He should tell someone.

He really should.

(He doesn't.)

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Endeavor's words with his tutor were enough to send him into overdrive.

If Hiroi-sensei was faintly amicable before, he's a shut door now. Izuku barely arrives to his designated training room before he's forced on the matt and in a candle circle again. The workout is even more gruesome than before.

The physical exercises Hiroi-sensei had been previously steadily adding into their routine was skipped entirely in the favor of going straight into Quirk training.

If he had to guess, Hiroi-sensei was _panicking_.

By their third training after the garden incident, it's all but confirmed.

"I don't understand why it happened." Hiroi-sensei murmurs more to himself for what felt like the fifth time. Izuku doesn't even try to interrupt him, choosing instead to focus on his work because the faster he was done, the faster they could move on. "You were being good. You've _never_ lost control of your Quirk before, especially not to this scale."

 _I know,_ Izuku thinks somberly, but he doesn't voice it out loud.

Had his father threatened to fire Hiroi-sensei?

"I should add meditation to the list of exercises you need to undergo. We can't let it happen again, understood?"

Izuku only nods in response.

Hiroi-sensei's training was grueling.

He has him turning his Quirk on and off continuously on the candles -has him making his fire dance from whisk to whisk, leaping across them like frogs across a pond -that thought makes him wince- and exhausts him by making him keep his fire on for hours on end to test endurance.

 _It's easy training compared to what you will do when you're older,_ Hiroi-sensei informs him as he stands in the middle of the room, quietly biting down the bile that threatens to come up. _You will do better in time._

Izuku just keeps quiet.

He didn't _have_ time.

And he doesn't have the strength to keep it down, either. Izuku glances at the clock, hung up over the main door. There's less than a hour left to their training. _I can do this._

His stomach twists uneasily in his belly, another warning. It's not the first time, but there is something different. Some lone instinct in him tells him that. He has to get out of here before he makes a mess of things, again. They'd only recently repaired the floor, and the garden was still a mess. He couldn't afford another screw up.

Without his teacher's permission, Izuku cancels out the fire on the candles.

For the briefest of moments, he just stands there, hands on his knees. The candles' tips still smoked, long phantom wisps that twisted in the air like ethereal snakes. The youngest Todoroki can barely hear his tutor impatiently asking him what was wrong, why he stopped the exercise early.

Then he stands up and turns to look at his teacher.

"May I be excused?" There's a hushed silence that falls over the room at the unexpected demand. His tutor peers at him, wrinkling his nose in distates.

Izuku nevertheless holds his exasperated gaze, not letting any emotion show.

"Fine." Hiroi-sensei hisses out after a moment, scowling in exasperation. "I will have words to your father about this."

Izuku only bows in response. "Thank you, Hiroi-sensei." The words taste like gravel in his mouth -no, metallic. Discreatedly, he licks the roof of his mouth.

 _Definitively_ metallic.

Izuku leaves the training room as fast as he could. He doesn't realize where his feet are taking him until he stumbles into the bathroom, opening the door with a soft push. The green-haired boy wobbles to the toilet, standing over it.

He stares at the porcelain, unseeing.

His knees give out before he can stop it; he's only able to grab onto the edges of the toilet, eyes squinting closed before his stomach _curls_ in such a painful way he nearly cries out and suddenly something warm and metallic crawling up his throat and hitting the water. It sloshes, a unpleasant sound that makes the nausea even worse.

It makes Izuku retch again.

He'd never felt so awful before. Was he sick? Was he dying? Quirk Strain, maybe? He didn't know, _he didn't know and it hurt so much_ …

When he opens his eyes again, he stills.

There's red in the toilet.

Izuku stares for the briefest moment before he closes his eyes and whimpers, the corner of his eyes stinging. He tries to bite down on the rising panic, but he can't. There's no way he can lie to himself when he just coughed up what looked like half a cup of blood.

 _I have to tell someone._ He thinks, trying to fight the hysteria.

Just like that, something ugly rears up in his head and sneers.

 _Who will you talk to?_

 _Endeavor,_ he thinks immediately, then he has to fight the grimace. _No, not father, he'll just be mad, he'll just be disappointed-_

If he wasn't clutching the edges of the toilet, he would be holding his head and trying not to weep in frustration. Things were so much easier with Inko.

 _But she's not here, is she?_

Izuku's mind blanks. Any further thought of telling someone fizzles out with that dark, rancorous thought.

 _She let you go._

Numbly, he reaches out blearily for the level and tugs it down. The toilet flushes, taking with it the sea of scarlet.

 _It's fine._ The trembling boy thinks as he watches the evidence disappear. _I just have to be more careful._

The fire sways like candlelight in his chest, lethargic.

 _I have to be better._

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

He doesn't get better.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Days pass.

Waking up is harder and harder. Half the time Izuku just wants to sink under the covers, curl up in a nest of warmth and stay there forever. Most often than not, he only wakes when Fuyumi is at the door, asking him to have breakfast with her and Natsuo.

He always says yes, but a growing part of him never wants to open that damned door ever again.

Training is difficult. He develops the habit of excusing himself four fifths into his sessions, the nausea and growing numbness keeping him from working as hard as he wished to. His tutor doesn't like it but since Izuku has yet to burn something again, Hiroi-sensei can't scold him.

Much.

Not that Izuku cares for his opinion. It's harsh, but he's running a very tight ship at this point, juggling training, avoiding Shoto and trying not puke his guts out in the middle of the hallway for all of the Todoroki to see.

That last one, he's failing miserably.

This night's no different. He's pulled out of a restless slumber by the familiar twists and churns of his stomach. It only takes him a moment to realize what was happening and then he's off, ripping away his covers and crawling to his feet. Silently panicking, he slams the door a bit on the way out; the sound makes Izuku wince.

What if someone heard?

The exhausted, sickly boy nearly whirls back to hide in his bedroom out of fear of someone leaving their bedroom and seeing him, but the rumbling of his stomach told him wouldn't be very happy to be ignored. And so Izuku goes, trying not to make a lot of sound as he rushes down the hall.

He's a mess of disorganized limbs when he stumbles to the bathroom and drops to his knees hard in front the toilet, gagging and gasping through each wet cough. The sick boy barely manages to aim his head at the bowl to keep from making a mess of the tiled flooring. He doesn't think he has the strength in him to clean if he did.

The taste of metal in his mouth brings tears to his eyes and Izuku sobs through the retching. He tries to be quiet, but it's impossible when he's gagging and wheezing through mouthfuls of blood.

Limbs shaking, stomach twisting knots in his belly, he waits for his body to calm down. His throat burns from vomiting, and his fire bubbles uneasily from where it's lodged under his ribcage. For a moment, Izuku thinks he was going to pass out like this, bent over

Finally, blessedly, it stops after what feels like a eternity.

He lays on his knees, head swimming. Saliva and blood gather on the corner of his lips. There's nothing left in him to give him the strength to stand, so he sits there. Rests his cheek against the edge of the bowl, closes his eyes and tries to coax his breathing into something livable.

Something moves behind him.

Slowly, Izuku opens his eyes.

There's orange shadows on the tiled floor.

"You're sick."

His father says it as a simply statement, and the edges of Izuku's lips unwillingly twitch upwards. An _understatement_ , seeing as he's just about coughed up a lung and a half. Izuku wonders if someone could live without one.

If it stopped this, he certainly would.

His father's heavy footsteps edge closer to him; Izuku moves to stand simply out of reflex, not wanting to give his parent the excuse for another deluge of comments about his appearance. His knees fail him though, and his legs wobble dangerously halfway through the motion, about to give out.

Izuku never hits the floor.

A hand comes down on his shoulder, steadying him. Startled, the young boy is stiff but docile when his father kneels down, loops a massive arm under the back of his knees and lifts him to sit on the bathroom counter.

It's not the first time Izuku has been picked up by his father, and it reminds him of the last time, when the cameras were flashing and there was nowhere to hide from the masses. Except, there are no lights here, no cameras, not people to look at them and sing Endeavor praises. It's just the two of them and one really bloody toilet. Izuku didn't even have the time to flush it.

The marble feels cold against his skin. Against his will he fidgets, tilting slightly on the side as his sense of balance fizzles in and out of working order. Instead of worrying about that, he focuses on his breathing pattern. In, out. He does his best to keep it regular.

In front of him, Endeavor pulls away to peer at the toilet, a gnashed hiss reaching Izuku's ears as the man discovers the scarlet color of the water.

Izuku's too out of it to feel same. His swaying only stops when he feels one of his father's hand wrap loosely under his chin, keeping him still. Lightheaded and floating away, a glassy-eyed Izuku barely registers what was happening.

He yelps when light blinds him in the eyes.

"Hold still," His father mutters forcefully as he flicks a small flashlight between glazed green eyes. Izuku whimpers and fidgets, but the pro-hero's hold on him was steel. What was he doing? "How long?"

"Warm." He croaks instead, eyes sliding shut again. Blinded, Izuku reaches for the fire that he knows are on the man's face. Maybe if he touches it-

A finger taps him on the forehead, startling him and making him reach for the offending digit instead. "Izuku, _focus_." His father snaps in that familiar, reprimanding voice. He's still, however, surprisingly quiet for a man his size. "How long have you been sick."

Izuku lets the answer roll on his tongue for a moment. The metal taste had yet to fade.

There's no way he can hide it anymore.

"A while," He finally says with a wheeze, looking at his knees. Endeavor lets out a muffled noise that sounds suspiciously like one of the curses Kacchan likes to use. "...a week, 'ore? I dunno." Distantly, he's aware that he's slurring.

"You need a doctor."

"'Kay." Izuku croaks back placidly.

His father tells him something else, but it's around the moment he starts talking that Izuku's body it had enough and he's drifting again.

By the time Endeavor carries him to the car with rushed, hurried steps, his breaths had become short and wheezing. Something wet drips down the side of his mouth, but he's too sleepy and exhausted to wipe it off.

It just keeps dripping, _down down down_...

-Izuku follows.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

"His white blood cell count is down." The doctor speaks over Izuku's head, but he's barely aware of it at this point. He's swimming in and out of consciousness. "He's also way too thin for his age. Dangerously so. That and combined with his deliriousness, it's like his body is in a constant state of distress. It's starved for nutrients."

Izuku lets the words drift over his head like clouds, keeping his eyes closed. He can hear his father's fire flickering somewhere to his right. So close, he can almost sense it.

Warm, warm fire.

His own _lurches_ unsteadily in his chest, fluttering its wings anxiously and he whines as he tilts to the side of whatever he's laying on, trembling hands reaching from under the blanket for the source of the flames. It's stupid, but like in the bathroom, he can't help it.

His actions don't go unnoticed. Endeavor only needs to use one hand to press him back into the bed. Izuku's too tired and feverish to try again; he doesn't need to, however. His father's hand remains on his chest and he curls up under it, shuddering as it's warmth seeps into his bones.

Not enough.

Nowhere near enough.

He needs, _he needs-_

(What is it?)

The words, the knowledge stick to the back of his head like gum, unwilling to form, _refusing_ to come to light. Izuku's stuck between a state of knowing and not knowing, and if he was even the slightest bit more aware it would have driven him mad.

"What illnesses could have brought this?"

"Well, there's…."

Izuku knew he should be listening. In any other situation he would, avidly, but not now. Not in the state he's in.

He keeps phasing in and out and he knows he should be panicking, but at this point, honestly, he was just _tired_.

"You mentioned his Quirk, yes?"

A grunt. "Indeed. I believe this might be Quirk Strain. My son has grown weaker since he started training his fire. His tutor can verify this."

Oh? Izuku grips onto awareness with desperate claws. Had his father noticed? Hiroi-sensei had to have told him about the skipping, was that why he didn't get reprimanded about cutting his training short?

"Interesting," A shuffle of paper. The doctor's speaking again. "Have you considered…"

His uncertain hold slips.

 _No-_

Izuku is out before he can stop it.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

People come and go.

At least, he _thinks_ they are people. He only sees shadows at the edge of his blurry vision, moving around him and speaking in quiet tones. It's like looking through a thick fogged window at nighttime.

He should be scared, but there's very little awareness left in Izuku. He can only lay there, curled up under a mound of blankets, limbs tucked in as he fights to breathe. Fights to keep that small, flickering flame alive inside him.

But it's cold, so cold, and there's no warmth left, there's nothing but a dying candlelight lodged in his ribcage. He tries to feed it, to give it air, but it's tiny and weak. It was like trying to feed a tiny bird with a big spoon. It just didn't work.

Still Izuku tried.

He had to.

"Hold on, Izuku." Someone murmurs at his side, sad and heartbroken, during the times where Izuku is just the tiniest bit aware. _Fuyumi._

The fever drags him back down before he can manage to croak out even a single word of comfort. It's a struggle, to poke his head out of the water, to hold on _just_ long enough to catch a wisps of who was around him. Once, Izuku thinks he feels a hand on his own, small and only moderately warm, trembling, but he's too out of it to discern who it is.

He has to focus on breathing, no matter how hard it was.

To keep the tiny flame, the smoking coals that once used to be a blaze, going in his heart. It's nigh impossible.

He exhales-

 _there's_

 _no_

 _kindle_

Darkness.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

The next time he wakes up, there's someone he doesn't recognize in his bedroom.

It takes a lot of effort, but Izuku manages to flutter his eyes open.

His sight was blurry and he could barely see over the large, strange plastic thing clasped over his mouth, Izuku can tell this person was male, and young. Too small to be Endeavor, too big to be Natsuo. Nowhere near slender enough to be Fuyumi, nor bearing Shoto's characteristic mop of hair.

This wasn't a stranger, though.

Izuku could tell due to the familiar shade of his dark red hair.

"You poor thing," He hears Touya murmur softly, wonder and sorrow all wrapped together in his voice. There's warmth fanning over his forehead as the older boy breathes. He's sitting at the edge of the futon, long legs folded at his side; Izuku feels one of his hands being picked up. "All burnt up, aren't you?"

Silence stretches between the two of them.

It takes a while for his brain to translate those sounds into words, and give meaning to the man's phrase. When it does, Izuku tries to formulate a question, but his tongue is lead in his mouth; there's no strength left in him to even move it. He can only let out a low croak and make his fingers twitch in the teen's grasp.

How does he know?

How does he know the right words that Izuku's mind couldn't muster?

He's only distantly aware of how the man turns his wrist delicately, cradling his hand in his. His face is blurry, but in the darkness Izuku could discern the sharp curve of his jaw and the soft angle of his cheeks. A teenager at most, but his hand is positively massive compared to his.

And warm.

 _So warm._

Izuku tries to nuzzle closer against the source of that relief, but there's things on him that he can't focus on, that he can't describe, that are just as strange as the object on his face and he whines, forlorn.

The man chuckles.

"It's okay," Touya reassures him gently, bowing his head close. Izuku could see his eyes now. Turquoise like Shoto, like Endeavor -but kind. So, so kind. He melts even further into the bedding. "I'll fix you up, little brother. Just sit still, darling."

For once, Izuku doesn't mind following a Todoroki's demand.

He lets Touya hover over him, holding his hand carefully in his own. Through a blurry vision, he watches as his eldest brother's fingers slide down the curve of his arm, following the trail of blue veins that stands stark against paper thin, white skin.

Again and again, he repeated that motion., then switches to his other arm. He's more careful with that one, as there is one of the weird equipements Izuku couldn't name on his forearm, digging his skin. A needle? It's strange that he can't feel it, but as worn out as he was, it's expected. Izuku half-dozes against his older brother, barely holding on through the warmth of his touch.

Touya exhales softly, sounding almost wistful.

Then there's blue dancing at his fingertips, casting bright halos over his face.

There's not enough strength in Izuku to jolt at the appearance of the cerulean flames, but he's able to let out a tiny, wheezy gasp. It earns him a soft chuckle and a wry smirk from the older Todoroki. Izuku watches at Touya's digits bruise under the stark flames, as if unable to support their presence.

He wants to voice out his concerns, but those blue eyes gaze down at him, demanding attention. Then they flick down, to the blue fire, and mindlessly answering the silent request, Izuku _reaches_.

Black twines with blue.

He's pleasantly surprised by how easily the fire responds to his call. It blooms from his chest, up his veins and joins Touya's brilliant blues like a lost partner on his arm. It's dark and stiff to begin with, still cold and dead, but slowly, as the blue flames mold against Izuku's quirk, it begins to wake up, grows from glacial to cold to chill as it wiggles and dances around elegant sapphire with more and more strength.

And Touya's flames, they grow dimmer and dimmer.

Izuku watches quietly through bleary, squinted eyes. Touya didn't seem to mind, his deep blue eyes gazing at his hand on Izuku's arm. His fingers seemed unharmed by the black fire -Izuku had learned to tell when it did, it felt like a sixth sense- but his own Quirk didn't seem as careful judging by the redness of his pale skin.

The youngest of the duo wants to tell him, wants him to stop hurting himself, however lightly, but the quiet, persevering intensity of Touya's presence keeps him quiet. His brother seemed set on this; and Izuku, he was in no position to argue.

Soon there's nothing but black remaining, the remnants of Touya's fire swallowed by the onyx flames.

His older brother doesn't seem worried. Instead, a satisfied smile stretches across his lips, accentuating the gauntness of his face. "There," He whispers, more to himself than Izuku, who's starting to drift again.

This time it's different, though. This time he feels heavier, more grounded. More _here_.

Touya pulls his hand away, and uses his other one to tuck Izuku back under the covers. He reaches out into the darkness and tucks something hard and lukewarm in his left hand, to which Izuku holds on to obediently.

There's the faintest smell of something burnt, but he can't locate the source. Izuku tries to lift his head, curious; Touya gently tugs him back down. The soft, smooth chuckle of amusement he lets out caresses Izuku's ears, and he knows then and there things would be fine.

He was going to be fine.

He trails his finger over the item in his hand. Even without looking, the young boy recognizes the feeling of two pointed shapes atop of a tiny, plastic head.

(Someone cares.)

"Sleep, little firecracker."

Izuku closes his eyes and falls back willingly into the darkness, the weight of Touya's hand resting heavy atop of his head.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

"You shouldn't be up."

"I'll be fine," Izuku murmurs simply in reply as he walks across the living room, taking measured steps as he moved. There's barely any tilting, and he feels no nausea. It's the best he's felt in days. "I feel better. Besides, I don't want to stay in bed all day!"

Natsuo only squints in reply, untrusting of his word. That might be because Izuku was on several different kinds of painkillers, but it's not like it's a huge issue. It's been a solid eight days since their father found him retching in the bathroom, and two since Touya came to him at night.

He had yet to see his eldest, most mysterious sibling again.

(Izuku's not disappointed. He's not.)

"I doubt that." Fuyumi replies from the couch, watching him worriedly. "You're pushing yourself, if father finds out-"

"He's probably the bastard who's pushing him to do this." Natsuo hisses from the kitchen.

Izuku falters. "Don't…." A sigh. "...father hasn't said anything. I'm doing this on my own."

"So much doubt, little brother, _so much doubt_."

"Believe what you want, Natsuo." Izuku replied, unperturbed. He's grown used to Natsuo's bite. Hours hearing him scream his lungs out at Endeavor were slowly desensitizing him of the spiteful side of his older brother's personality. "I need to get better. The faster I'm up, the faster I can start training again."

There's a thud and a muffled curse from Natsuo coming from the kitchen. Fuyumi makes a grimace. She hesitates only for a moment before asking; "Izuku, are you sure father-"

The smallest Todoroki nearly misses his next step, only barely catching himself with a hand on the top of the couch. Fuyumi jolts, her book nearly tossed aside as she half-rises to help him. Izuku waves her off as gently as he could.

"He's _not_." Izuku says a bit too forcefully over his sister's voice. "I can't skip out on training. I need to master my Quirk."

"Fuck that, you haven't even started school work with your tutors!" Natsuo reprimands him from the kitchen. He's peeking his head out into the living room now, his mop of white hair shadowing his narrowed eyes. "You'll have Yuuei to train your Quirk, why are you putting so much focus on that?!"

"Because I need to." Izuku shrugs as he starts practicing again. "I just do."

This time it's Fuyumi who speaks up. "That isn't a answer."

Izuku shrugs, refusing to reply verbally.

How could he? He couldn't find the words to explain to them that he didn't know, exactly, why he was so insistent on this. That the reason he was pushing himself so hard after being sick for so long was due to some instinct engraved in him, something that was part of the bundle of impulses that led him to using his Quirk for the first time. And this strange phantom hung at the back of his mind like a ominous vision, telling him to _get up, Izuku,_ and do something before it's too late.

Because he was running out of time. Since his Quirk activated, he's been on a time crunch he hasn't been aware of and he _needs_ to move, fast.

(The ground was starting to sink under his feet.

Soon enough, the noose would begin to strangle him.)

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

He knows his siblings mean well, but he couldn't stop.

Whatever his oldest brother did, Touya only bought him time, and he wasn't around to ask how. Izuku had to push through without him, and fast. There's something under his skin, something _bad_ he's missing about his Quirk.

And he has to figure it out.

Soon.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

"You're better."

"Gha!" Izuku nearly falls over at the sudden voice next to him, the sharp yelp his older brother manages to drag out of him probably shaving a few years off his lifespan. Whirling, the green-haired boy turns to look at the sudden intruder in his bedroom.

Unperturbed mismatched eyes stare back in return.

Shoto.

"Thanks?" Izuku manages to choke out, so startled by the older Todoroki's appearance.

His brother stares at him for the longest while, grey and blue eyes flicking up and down his form, examining him. Having been under the scrutiny of Natsuo and Fuyumi for the past few days, Izuku knows a judging gaze when he sees one. _He's trying to figure out if I'm gonna fall over._

Good thing he's not. He has gotten better -not as good as before his Quirk manifested, but he wasn't vomiting blood anymore, so he guessed that was good.

"...I'm glad." Shoto mutters and he suddenly blinks, his neutral expression slipping into surprise, as if he was taken off guard by his own words. Izuku opens his mouth to thank him again, but the older boy is out the door before he can even get a word out.

Once again, Izuku is left alone.

Still, he smiles.

Then he gets back to work.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Inhale.

Exhale.

 _You can do this, Izuku._

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Ultimately, he can't.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 _"You're not focusing!"_

Fire burst forth on the tip of the candlestick. Izuku chokes down on the bile.

Today was worse.

 _So much worse._

He had half a mind to call off training entirely, but he can't muster the words to form on his lips. Izuku knew it was wrong, but a stubborn part of him wanted to push through this, wants it to be over, wants to fight through the weakness before the _something_ that was making his skin crawl happened.

Izuku didn't understand. He had been getting better, had he not? It's only been two weeks, _why_ was the cold back? Had he reached that invisible finish line he'd been dreading?

If this kept up, his father was going to have to drive him to the hospital again. His stomach drops at the thought. Endeavor was definitely going to be disappointed. Between the garden incident and the trips to the hospital, Izuku wouldn't blame him if he thought he was more of a burden than anything else.

Then a traitorous, painful thought slams into him. What if his father sends him back? What then? What would happen to Inko, what would Izuku _do to her-_

"Focus! You're not trying, Izuku." Hiroi-sensei is in his face again, jabbing a finger at him. Fire crackles around his fingertips, restless but restrained. There's little worry in his voice, only annoyance. "You were doing so well, too. What's going on with you?! Are you sick again?"

 _I don't know._ _**I don't know.**_

He's barely aware of Hiroi-Sensei grabbing onto his wrist and all but yelling at him, gaze filled with reprimand. His eyes failed him, his vision tilted and blurred in a way that was intimately familiar. Izuku felt like all the strength he had left was focused on keeping him upright.

Even blinking is slow, taxing work.

Izuku stares up at his teacher's arm, transfixed.

He barely hears it's owner reprimanding him. Not over the thoughts swirling inside his head, so fast and disjointed he barely understood them.

 _No._

 _Maybe._

 _It hurts._

 _If I..._

There's two Izukus in his head, tearing at each other, reaching for the wheel. One's small and weakened, skin cold and clammy. Sickly. The other's feral and angry, banging against the walls of his cage like a angry, starved animal.

That's the one who's winning, he realizes numbly. Izuku can't even scream in warning. He's locked inside his own body, staring at his teacher's gesturing hands with wide, blank eyes. It's right there, the answer's right there-

He remembers Touya's gentle touch, the warm of his fire.

How his flames had-

(Suddenly, he _knows_.)

"Are you listening to me?"

Izuku reaches with his mind and _pulls_.

* * *

 **Every fire needs kindle.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Me last chapter: Sorry it took so much time this was a beast of a chapter I hope you like it hahaha its the biggest one I'll make cuz there was a lot to go through-**

 **Me today, sleep deprived, high on caffeine with a pigeon snoozing on top of my head: Oh my sweet summer child.**

 **Yeah, I still got the pigeon. It's getting fat on bird feed and doesn't want to leave. Is this how you get a bird? This is how you get a bird.**

 **Fuck.**

 **Apologies for the monstrous delay, won't happen again . There was a lot I was dealing with this past two weeks and this chapter went through like 5 versions before I was satisfied. I have no sleep left in me. I smell all the colors now. Remember me my darlings, I want to be cremated.**

* * *

The bench felt frigid under his hands.

Izuku stared emptily at the perfectly smooth, tiled white floor as he swung his legs back and forth, his movements leasured and winding. With his age and thin build, the tip of his red shoes barely scraped against the ground. Izuku didn't mind. If anything, the lack of contact had lulled him into a distant state of meditation by the repetitive movements.

Though if he squints just a little bit harder, he could spot the ash sticking to the soles and sides of his shoes.

(His shoes aren't the only thing that was dirty. It's on his pants, his shirt, his hair hi e-)

Tearing his gaze away, Izuku turns his attention to the window. It's still light outside, the blue of the sky just barely beginning to darken. The trees swayed gently in the breeze, branches full of green casting soft twisting shadows through the glass. Occasionally the sunlight would pierce through the leafs and bear down on his eyes, forcing the youngest Todoroki to squint and look away.

Izuku turns his attention to the farthest wall. White, barren, clean, it's unassuming and to another, boring, but it's what he chooses to focus on. He gazes deeply into the soft whites, letting himself be absorbed by it. People walked by the young boy; nurses, doctors, patients, visitors, all caught up in their own struggles, unperturbed by his presence. Too busy walking to their destination to acknowledge the five year old sitting alone.

He's not by himself for long. The door next to the bench clicks open, and out steps a familiar tall man with red hair and brilliant flames dancing on his skin. His footsteps echo like drums, forcing a small tremor out of the small child. The man walks over to stand at the middle of the hall, towering, in front of the window. His shadow drapes over him.

Not even a glance was spared at Izuku. The boy takes in a deep, solemn breath, refusing to look at him. Endeavor offers him the same courtesy.

A oppressive silence stretches on between the two.

The pro hero stares out the window, arms crossed, back to him. Izuku can't tell what he's feeling but the green-haired boy can sense the dark cloud hanging over his head. The hard lines of his shoulders were drawn in and tense; his hands were crisped on forearms, fingers digging into the dark business suit he'd been wearing when he rushed back to the house.

Green eyes flick back down. There's familiar, dark grey speck clinging to his father's legs. It's not dust.

He wishes it was.

"You're lucky that I made him sign a non-disclosure agreement." Endeavor's words drift into his ears, their meaning faded and lost to his mind. Izuku lifts his gaze to stare out the window.

His head feels tight, the pressure in his father's blank voice getting to him, but the rest of his body feels strangely lax. At ease. Relaxed. A sleepy state of fullness.

Shame boils under the ice, threatening to break through.

"I didn't mean to." Izuku tells him placidly, but it feels bland.

Empty. Like a lie.

 _Because it's not true is it-_

It may be because it was one. Quirks like theirs didn't just activate on their own. A bit of smoke, a bit of fire, but never like this. Never to this level, and his father knows it.

"You didn't _mean_ to." Endeavor stresses the word, hands clenching and unclenching at his side, his massive, intimidating body incredibly tense with the need to do something.

His father makes a noise not unlike a snorted exhale. It's the least dignified noise he'd ever heard him make. Izuku could see the fire flicking back and forth around his head, twisting angrily, betraying his emotions. They're bigger than usual, spreading over his neck and shoulders like they would in his hero gear. It's a wonder they aren't burning his clothes. "You didn't mean to. _How_ could you have not meant it?"

There's no sound leaving Izuku's lips. At the vast, stretching silence, Endeavor spins around and stalks up to him, who's frozen stiff on the bench at his approach. Each stomp of his massive feet sends a unpleasant jolt through Izuku's heart, which wilts and twists and _hurts_ when a thick finger digs into his shoulder in a familiar gesture.

Like a fish dragged up by a hook, Izuku's gaze goes up. All-encompassing turquoise eyes pin him in place.

Shoto's face flashes through his mind.

(Never Touya.)

"Izuku, you incinerated his arms."

The finger digs deeper into his flesh, and Izuku's world tilts at the familiar gesture of reprimand. It had been only days ago since the last time -he remembers the garden, the twisted, broken road, the mass of ash that used to be a tree and a rock, the steam rising across the pond-

-the screams, the blood, the _ash_ dancing against his skin as a body falls to the tatami mat, shrieking, wrinthing two stumps that used to be arms and it felt, it felt so-

Izuku takes a deep breath. His gaze falls back to the ground.

Then he takes a second one.

Then a third.

Oxygen flows through his body, grounding him. It feels good, but it's not enough to keep his heart from trying to claw its way out of his ribcage out of self-disgust. He knows what he did. He _knows_ what he did. And the ugly truth behind his Quirk. He knew and Hiroi-sensei...he…

The sot marks on his cheeks _burn_.

 _You know how his Quirk works,_ Kacchan's voice tells him spitefully. It was a familiar tone, one of bite and restless anger the blond boy would use when Izuku did something better than him at school. _You took his arms. You might not have killed him but you stole_ _ **everything**_ _from him-_

He wants to defend himself, but nothing came to mind.

Because it was true.

Without his arms, Hiroi-sensei's work as a hero was over before it ever really began. He was never going to be able to use his powers ever again, not with the main way he used his Quirk gone. As far as Izuku knew -and he'd had plenty of time to study his tutor, though he never dared to note things down- Hiroi-sensei could only generate fire from his fingertips. Which meant that by burning his forearms to crisps, Izuku destroyed his career as a pro-hero.

He'd done what villains do.

The realization tastes bitter on his tongue. It hurts almost as much as the finger currently stabbing into his shoulder. It manages to pierce through the veil of dim warmth and fullness that had settled within his bones, and grip his heart cruelly.

"I didn't mean to."

 _lies lies lies_

 _you did this_

 _ **you liked it**_

"I find it hard to believe." His father answers, letting his hand drop to his side. Izuku's shoulder still ached. "I'm not a fool, Izuku. You've been more and more out of control. And now this-" His gaze flicks to the closed door, if only for a moment, but it still sends a stab of dread down Izuku's spine. "-I don't know what to do with you. You're turning into such a disgrace-"

The words leave him before he can even think it through. "Then send me back."

Endeavor pauses.

"...what?"

So quietly said. So dangerous.

For some reason, it's worse than him yelling.

If Izuku wasn't feeling so full and calm, lulled by the content feeling of the flames inside himself, he would have caved. If there wasn't a fire dancing under his ribs, warm and unburdened by hunger, he would have never spoken up in the first place.

"Send me back." Izuku repeats with a stronger voice, though slightly higher, slightly more hysterical. He still feels that terror, but it's manageable. The idea was now rolling, making its way around his head and Izuku would be a liar if he said he didn't like it. "I'm a mess, no? Then that means you don't need me. That means you can send me back."

 _That means I can go home._

 _(Inko Kacchan Masaru Mitsuki home home home-)_

His father doesn't reply. He just stares, eyes narrowed. His expression, unreadable. Izuku could almost see the gears turning inside his head. He knew he shouldn't be asking. He knew he shouldn't be doing this. It was insanity. Inko would only be in danger and yet _and yet-_

(Let me go _._ )

"I.." Izuku lets the words roll on his tongue, testing them. He wishes he could force them down his throat, make them disappear, but they climb out of his trembling lips anyways. "...I want to see my mom."

He's finally managed to choke it out, and immediately regrets it.

"And what do you intend to do? Burn her too?" Endeavor finally answers, voice low, not even bothering to hide the disdain in his voice. "...like you've done for your teacher's arms?" He continues, tone edged with a viciousness Izuku had never experienced before. He'd never heard the man be so...so cruel, not even to Natsuo.

The green-haired boy flinches, barely fighting the urge to curl into himself. He was right, though. Of course he was. His father's words had some measure of truth in them. Today was just another example of how out of control he was.

How dangerous he was.

If he could do this to a fully trained pro-hero, what would he do to a vulnerable Inko? His mother was too kind, too soft, she had no training and her Quirk was neither water or fire based so if he did go out of control and there was no one else around…

Izuku lets out a wordless, pained noise. His toes curl inside his dirty, ash-stained shoes, and he barely keeps himself from shivering. The fire curls unpleasantly in his chest.

His father's head snaps to him at the sound, eyes narrowed. "What is it?" The _now_ is not said, but clearly implied by the tightness in his voice. It was becoming clearer and clearer just how much his father didn't want to be here.

"Nothing." Izuku shakes his head, looking away from the adult. He didn't have the strength in him to look at his father in the eyes, not after- "I...I'm just tired." He lifts his head, but his gaze never passes higher than the invisible of his father's chest. "I'm sorry. I overstepped."

A slow nod from the red-haired man is his only confirmation that his father had accepted the apology.

Green eyes turn away from Endeavor, resting on the door his father had just gone through. Because of his height, Izuku can't peer at the small window at the top. He's not sure he would peak if he could. His throat suddenly feels awfully dry.

 _Would he even…?_

A pit grows in his stomach the longer he stares at the closed door.

"Can I…?" He wonders out loud, voice wavering. Unable to muster the strength or courage to speak any further, Izuku holds his father's gaze and jerks his head towards the closed door. "Can I see him?"

He's not ready to see the man whose future he destroyed. Izuku knows that. But he has to. He needs to face what he's done. He needs to look at Hiroi-sensei, look at what was left of the once proud man and say-

 _Please let me see him._

 _Please let me apologize._

Did he even have the strength to go through that door?

His father's expression darkens further. "Do what you will." He tells Izuku with a low voice, jerking his chin towards the room.

Most of the steel that had been in his voice previously was gone, leaving behind something angry and tired. Once ago Izuku would have thought he was imagining it, but now he knew the man long enough to know the signs. His shoulders stood a few inches lower, his fire was quieter and there was a cut on the left side of his face, likely from the hero work he'd been doing right before he'd rushed home.

Izuku's barely able to warble out a thank you in response. He slides off the cold bench, his fingers trailing over the metal as his feet silently touch the floor. Walking over to the door, his legs dragging as if he was waddling through mud, he rests a hand against the doorknob.

It wouldn't take much. Just a twist of the handle and a push. Just a bit of effort and he would meet his teacher again. It wasn't much.

(Lies.)

Izuku turns his head to look at his father. Endeavor was looking down at him, expression indecipherable. There's a dark look to his face, a pinching of his brow and a shadowing of his eyes that the green-haired child cannot decipher.

Time passes.

Izuku can't move. His hand trembles against the door.

Endeavor exhales. The number two hero shifts on his feet, his hands clenching and unclenching at his side. Finally, after a moment of thought, the man lifts a arm and extends a open hand towards him.

Izuku steps away from the door and rests his hand within his father's. The large, strong fingers wrap around his frail limb, just shy of painful.

"Let's go home, Izuku."

 _Weak_ , Izuku thinks to himself as they walk together to the car. _I'm a failure._

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Fuyumi asks him through the door. Her quiet voice barely reached through the thick wood, full of concern and anxious worry.

Izuku merely grunts as he turns the faucets on, setting the temperature to scalding.

"I said I was fine." A beat. He feels a pang of guilt. "I can do this by myself. Thank you."

There's no answer. He hears Fuyumi's footsteps fade away.

He doesn't feel sorry. He _doesn't._ He'll deal with his older sister later.

He can't be around her right now. Or anyone.

Izuku turns away from the door and resumes undressing himself. His red shoes were kicked off and placed neatly next to the toilet, and he pulled his shirt over his head. He holds the fabric loosely in his arms, staring at the grey stains dotting the cloth. No burns in sight.

Swallowing, Izuku folds it carefully before setting it on the toilet seat. He goes to pull his pants next, but his gaze snags on the bathroom mirror and he stills.

He's still as pale as ever, but there's a healthy blush on his skin, making him look less like a walking corpse and more of a person who never goes outside. Izuku's attention is drawn to his frame. A bit of muscle had formed since his arrival, but he's mainly attracted to the fact he has lot a fair bit of baby fat.

 _The lady was right,_ he thinks as he pokes at his limbs. The veins on his arms stand stark against his skin. _I'm too skinny._

There was no pain however. It wasn't as bad as before he-

Izuku bites his lower lip.

Finally, he dares to look up at his face.

Dead green eyes greet him. The gauntness has faded overnight. Or rather, within a few hours. The thought sent a shiver of dread racing up his spine.

It was nauseating to think it had only been hours since then, since-

Don't.

 _Don't think about it._

He can't stop.

 _You can't think about it._

He's so tired.

 _no no no_ _ **don't-**_

Hiroi-sensei's face scorches the front of his mind, his expression twisted in a mixture of pain and shock and when he _s_ he looks at Izuku with such horror-

 _his arms what did you_ _ **do**_

A wounded animal sound rings out through the steam-filled bathroom. It takes a moment for Izuku to register that the shuddered, choked cry was coming from his own lips.

A lot more time passes before he realizes the pain on his face was from his nails digging into the flesh of his cheeks.

It's a struggle, to pull his hands away.

(He just wants to dig deeper rip into his skin _tear it out tear it out tear it out_ _ **he doesn't want this Quirk-)**_

Izuku's body trembles with barely restrained energy. It coils within his bones, digging into his joints, a pressure so strange yet so familiar he restrains it out of reflex. His arms shake as he leans into the bathroom sink, barely hearing the water running as the tub slowly fills.

He never tears his gaze away from the mirror.

There's a mess of black, purple and red on his face. His hair hangs limply on his head. Crescent moon cuts frame his dull green eyes. Blood drips down his cheeks, constrasting with the paleness of his skin, mixing with the sot and ash clinging to his flesh like a brand he will never wash off.

It doesn't feel like enough.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 _He's in the garden again._

 _The trees are without leafs, the rough bark darkened, calculated. Izuku runs his hands across the surface of their trunk. A low hum leaves him as black sot clings to the tip of his fingers in the wake of his touch, painting his pale skin in shades of black and grey. It's still warmth. The heat sinks into his flesh and leaves him wanting._

 _His feet carry him away, down the pebble path._ _Come here,_ _something calls from beyond, coaxing._ _Over here. You need to come over here._

 _Izuku halts at the shore of the pond. Cold lapses at his toes and ankles, inviting. Yet he can't move, eyes staring off into the depths of the small body of water. Feet rooted in place. There a primordial instinct tickling at his hind brain, telling him to not move._

 _There's something in the water, and it's not the koi._

 _He can see the fishes, swimming just out of his reach. They flick their fins at him, long powerful bodies sifting through the cold water. It's not them he's worried about, but the moonlight blankets the surface of the water in a way that the only thing he can see is dark blue and opulent silver._

 _Leaning down, Izuku dips his hands into the water. The koi brush against his nails, their slimy bodies pressing against the limbs. Izuku tries to ignore their playful advances as he gently sinks his arms up to his elbows._

 _Clouded beneath the water, he watches as large, pale hands clasp around his own._

Izuku wakes in a cold sweat, all but throwing his covers of himself as he sits up in his futon. There's a scream lodged in his throat that refuses to come out, choking him, and for a moment he claws at his throat, gasping-

The fire flares beneath his skin and suddenly the blockage clogging his airways is gone. A pained rasp tears its way out of his throat; its followed by a sharp intake of air, then a second, then a third. Izuku sits there in the dark, shoulders hunched, body trembling. Fingers curl tightly around the sheets, nearly tearing them.

To his shame, he thinks he can smell smoke. Flopping back, he pulls the covers over his head while attempting to ignore the darkened burns his Quirk had left behind on the fabric. Closing his eyes, he tries to go back to sleep.

He fails.

Like everything in his life, really.

 _(Once a Deku, always a Deku.)_

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Izuku doesn't see Hiroi-sensei again.

According to his father, his training sessions are cancelled for the foreseeable future.

Instead, he gets tutors that start on his schooling. Writing, reading, mathematics, history. The first few days leaves Izuku's head spinning. They cover everything he would learn in school; the classes start early in the morning and end early in the afternoon, taking most of the day with them.

All too suddenly, he has homework again; he has a reason to read books beyond his own interests, he has more work to do than he'd ever had before, even back home. The material is different than before. He spends his evenings pouring over his assignments, practicing on his new notebooks dutifully.

Before he had only training to worry about, now it was school work instead, taking most of his time. Izuku's not bothered by the sudden change, though. It takes his mind off worse things. The teachers are boring but thorough, and he understands why the drastic shift in his lessons from hero training to normal school things, if not a bit more advanced than back with his mother.

It hurt, to think about her.

' _And what, burn her too?'_

(It hurt so much. Was this what Shoto felt?)

She would be proud, he thinks, of how fast he was advancing with his education. Izuku remembered the times he would rush home on swift legs, Kacchan barely keeping up with him in his enthusiasm. He would leave the blond at his house before darting to his own, clutching his latest test with a crisped hand as he banged the front door open while waving the paper furiously in the air. Those had been good times.

Those had been simple times.

Izuku wants nothing but to wind back time and go back to those days. Heh. Time manipulation. Now that would have been a nice Quirk to have. The possibilities floated through his mind like little sparrows, fast and fleeting, and his lips can't help but twitch upwards at the thought. A Quirk like that would be incredibly useful.

Instead however, he's stuck with the Quirk equivalent of a landmine that decided to go off whenever it wanted to.

Izuku groans, letting his head drop against the notebook he had spread out on the table. Fuyumi and Natsuo are too busy figuring out the new rice cooker to pay him any mind, which he finds reassuring. He doesn't think he could handle their overbearing presence for so long.

During the worst part of his illness -Quirk Strain, his mind mutters traitorously- they had treated him like glass and almost never let him move around the house on his own. Now though? He was mostly left to his own devices. Izuku has to wonder once more if their father had anything to do with it.

Probably.

Shoto was one burn victim in the family too many.

A small part of Izuku wants to bang his head against the table at the dark thought. Instead of giving in and earning himself a few new bruises and hopefully, a concussion, the youngest Todoroki decides to retreat to his room. Silently, he picks up his notebook, his pencil, his eraser and darts out of the room while Natsuo starts yelling as the steam stings his eyes.

He's not worried though; Fuyumi's there to assist him once he's done cussing up a storm. In a way, he was very much a mellower older version of Kacchan.

Pale fingers crisped around the edges of his notebook. Something sizzled. Izuku blinked, startled, then looked down at the source.

Immediately, he dropped his notebook with a yelp. It fell to his bedroom floor, distinctive hand-shaped marks seared on its front and cover. Smoke waffles up in lazy, swirling clouds. Izuku stares at it, shocked into a stupor.

When he comes out of it, he wants to scream into a pillow.

(At least he had the air for that now. For how long, who knew.)

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 _He dreams of walking in the great garden, his only source of light being the moon that hung over his head, full and as pale as Fuyumi's hair._

 _He's alone, with only the sounds of nature as his companion. There's no cars rumbling in the distance, no tire screeches or muffled chatter that came with crowds. It's as if the world began and ended in this garden._

 _Izuku finds that he doesn't mind this. He watches that glowing moon as the hours stretched on, how it climbed higher and higher into the dark void of the night sky. How the stars shimmered with hidden secrets over his head, drawing his thoughts away from memories of ash and charred bodies and broken dreams._

 _He finds that he quite likes this version of the garden._

 _It felt peaceful._

 _Lonely, but calming._

 _He walks over to the koi pond, tossing his shoes and socks aside as he walks into the water. The fishes swim around him like little ghosts, nipping at his toes, looking up at him with dark, knowing eyes. Laying bare everything hidden under his flesh, the fire that flickers gently in his ribcage like a lit candle, soft and at ease yet interested._

 _Izuku stops as the cold water reaches his ankles. The moon bears down on him, coating his skin in a thin silver sheen that washes out of the colors of his pajamas. He wants to look up at the astral body again, wants to feel the moonlight on his face, but a uncomfortable feeling draws his attention to the water. The koi swim enticidly around him, waiting. Brushing their slimy bodies against his feet like a cat demanding attention._

 _There's something else in the pond._

 _Izuku squints as he focused on the strange intruder a few feet away. His breath stutters when the moonlight illuminates their shape._

 _Two arms float on top of the water, bobbing up and down as the koi brush against them, nipping at the exposed, charred flesh. Brushing their whisks against the white of the bones._

 _He stumbles out of the water backwards, uncontrollable tremors running up and down his body, unable to tear his gaze away from Hiroi-sensei's limbs. The koi were far from startled by his sudden movement, long scaly, dazzling bodies swarming around the severed limbs, nipping at the blackened meat, tearing small bits around the gaping wounds of the upper arms._

 _Red mixes the pond's water, slowly turning it soft, transparent pink. The koi's glittering bodies moved through this spreading cloud, disappearing in and out of sight like little ghosts._

 _No sound manages to crawl its way out of Izuku's lips beyond a tiny, choked breath as he watches the koi's fins slap around the surface. They look gleeful as they rip the waterlogged limbs apart._

 _They look happy._

 _He should join them._

Izuku wakes up screaming.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

It's not the last time.

Insomnia, Izuku finds, is a ugly word. On his tongue, it tastes like ash should -dry, stale and dead.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Sometimes he sits cross legged on the floor in front of the dojo.

Izuku never opens the door.

Did they clean his training room? Did they fix the flooring? Did they clean the ash from the tatami mats?

He doesn't want to know.

Instead Izuku just lays there, palms on his thighs, green eyes fixed on the door. Sometimes, he can hear his father alone inside, the crackling sound of his Hellflame Quirk having become intimately familiar to him. As was the crackle of Shoto's ice, the sharp hiss of steam, the thud of a body hitting the floor, his father's grunted commands and his brother's hissed replies and painted groans.

When they use their fire, Izuku can see the shape of their bodies through the thin material of the sliding door. He can feel the heat too, but it's dull. The fire in his chest still strains in attention each time, interested.

He's not sure why he does this. Why he tortures himself like this.

He could be doing his homework. He could be reading. He could be helping Fuyumi around the house, or spending time with Natsuo, or studying in his room-

It's not going to get him back home. It's not going to let him see Inko again. It's not going to bring Hiroi-sensei's arms back. Izuku wasn't going to pretend that things were fine, that he could smile even if everything was going wrong. A full month and a half spent here had worn down his ability to do so.

Still despite this, he comes back here at every chance he has, at every slim window of time he can spare.

The floorboards creak.

Biting down the urge to jolt, Izuku turns his head to the left, looking for the source of the interruption. Shoto was standing a few feet away, his neatly folded training clothes held against his chest. There's a red bruise on the side of his face, and his hair is flat against his head, wet from his recent bath.

(That's one more thing Izuku learned here. With Inko, he never folded his clothes. That never stopped him from trying. He remembered gifting his mother sloppily folded clothes with a gummy smile. She always waited for him to be out of sight before folding them correctly -at least, she thought he was out of sight.)

"Shoto." He greets politely. His brother blinks, expression pinched with something Izuku can't decipher. "You finished training."

The older boy nods, lips pursing as he looks down at the folded clothes. "Yeah. Father...he had to leave early."

Izuku hums, head tilting back to look at the closed door. _That explained why he didn't hear them. They were gone when I arrived._

"He said he was satisfied with my performance."

The smaller boy nods gently. "Really?"

"It's true." From the corner of his eyes, Shoto looks like he'd rather be eating a whole lemon than having this conversation. He has to wonder why his brother was still here if this was so excruciating for him. "We focused on my fire today. I -it doesn't come as naturally as ice to me."

If his heart clenches with something ugly at Shoto's words, Izuku tries to ignore it. "You'll learn." He reassures him, fiddling with his hands. His eyes never stray from the door.

There's a sharp, grumpy sound of distaste. "That's a given." _I have to._ It's strange, how easily it was to have a silent communication with his family. It was never that way with his mother. "What about you?"

The question takes him off guard. Blinking owlishly, Izuku turns his head and shoulders to the other boy. Wait, when did Shoto sit down next to him?

"Huh?"

"Your training," Shoto fidgets at his, fingers twitching on the folded fabric with the barely repressed urge to fiddle with the sturdy cloth. Izuku couldn't help but be drawn to the gesture, so much so that it takes him a moment to hear Shoto's hesitating voice; "-did father change your schedule? I can't hear you training anymore."

His eyes flick up and down the thinner boy's body.

"There's no-" He rose one hand at tapped at the blooming bruise on his face. It's nearly as red as the scar over his eye.

Izuku blinks.

Oh.

 _Oh._

 _ **Oh.**_

 _Shoto doesn't know._ Izuku realizes, throat dry. _He doesn't know that I-_

He doesn't even fight the wave of mad hysteria that crashes over him. Shoto doesn't seem to notice. His gaze is guarded but soft, softer than before Izuku's sickness. He would feel warm about this change if he wasn't feeling like he'd just been dipped into a icy bath.

"It's going well." Izuku finally chokes out, voice barely wavering. He mentally pats himself on the back for that one. He's learning to mask his emotions. It's useful; he wishes he had this skill before, it would have been a great help against the rowdier kids and Kacchan.

(Ruby eyes framed by blond flash through his mind, singling him out. A sharp grin, hands tightening around a bug net, challenging him to a dragonfly catching contest.)

"...father's holding off more training for now." Izuku continues to lie, his voice inexplicably smooth for the poison he's spitting out. He jerks his head towards the door. "At least until I catch up on my studies. I'll probably get another teacher then."

 _Since you_ _ **mutilated**_ _the last one-_

The answering wordless sound Shoto made was thick with doubt. Nevertheless, he keeps that skepticism to himself. They both know that there was only one kind of study their father favoured, and it wasn't something taught in class.

It's a wonder that the older boy let it slide. The conversation tapers off into solemn silence.

Shoto stays with him until he has enough strength to leave.

.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

The garden's fixed.

There's a sapling where the old tree used to be. The pebble road had been replaced, the debris cleared and the bushes pruned and replanted.

Izuku stands in front of it and wonders how fast this one would burn.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

There's a lady cooking in the kitchen.

Izuku watches her move around from behind Fuyumi, his sister as perplexed as himself. They watch this strange, this intruder from the doorframe, unsure of how to proceed with this interloper. At one point she glances at them, eyes sharp and narrow. Fuyumi's hands unknowingly end up on Izuku's shoulders, holding him close. He can feel his sister's nervous shivering.

She comes in every three days, arms stacked high with glass containers filled with strange stews and other foods Izuku can barely recognize. Each of them has a little note taped to them, with the name of the dish on top and how long they have to be reheated. Izuku can't read most of the words, but Fuyumi and Natsuo pool over them religiously.

The lady never speaks.

It's okay, because none of the Todorokis want to talk to her.

Maybe it's the tight, pinched expression or the high cheeks or the dullness of her eyes. Maybe it's how she walks like she owns the world, fast paced and determined, her movements quick and to the point. It could be how she's in and out of the house within twenty minutes, barely staying there long enough to take the old containers and place the new ones in the fridge. Izuku's lucky if he sees her at all, though he can always hear the _tap tap tap_ of her elegant high heels on the expensive wooden floor.

She doesn't hold herself like Inko; none of her nervous, benevolent energy, none of her radiant warmth that sinks into his skin and makes him feel like he was worth something, like he was important and cherished. She has none of Mitsuki's brilliance, none of her loud, demanding fire that made even Kacchan in his worst mood apologize, and made Izuku feel safe. She's cold and stern. Alone.

A line separates this lady from them. There's a invisible bubble when she steps into the house, a aura of intruder that makes them shy away. And her actions only further deepen that boundary, to the point Izuku can nearly feel her presence through the walls, the click of her expensive shoes warning him just as well as his father's heavy footsteps. She never touches the kitchen itself. The clean dishes, the glasses, the utensils it's all the work of Fuyumi and Natsuo.

Izuku tries to help, but he's just too short and his arms shake too violently while holding the plates, even if he'd down to only one pill her day. It's a pointless effort.

"Don't worry, little brother." Natsuo tells him with a gentle push towards the living room. Behind him, Fuyumi had climbed onto a chair and was stacking the plates in the cupboards. "Let us take care of things, gotcha? Just focus on getting better."

At this, Izuku squints and looks at his retreating back, discouraged. He doesn't miss the hurried way he walks, but in his dejecture he can't bring himself to pointing it out. It wasn't the first time his siblings skirted around him like he was carrying a deadly plague.

He's not weak.

He's not useless.

He's not dang-

" _Izuku, you incinerated his arms."_

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Well.

Maybe there's some merit to that idea.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

It's been a month since the incident. Or at least, Izuku think it has. He's not keen on looking at the calendars anymore, not beyond what is required of him by his tutors so he doesn't miss assignment deadlines.

Slowly drumming his fingers against the paper, he looked down at his homework, lips pinched. Numbers dance on the sheet that he struggles to grasp. He knows the material -his tutor, a tight-lipped man with short crop blond hair and mean little eyes, hadn't let him leave yesterday until he managed to drill the calculations into his head in a session that passed the normal three hour mark and had him spending five hours lodged in the study room's hard chair, hands shaking from writing for so long.

It's only after he got it right several times that the man let him go to sleep. Fuyumi hadn't even noticed him not showing up for dinner. He's grateful for it.

His hand drops on the assignment as he tilts his head down, sighing. He couldn't do this. The numbers might as well be squibbles on the paper. He's pretty sure they're dancing to some invisible little tune just to spite him. Groaning, Izuku leans forward and puts his head in his hands, pressing his palms into his eye sockets. Hard. The bruises under his eyes twinge under the pressure, sore from lack of sleep.

(He's lost track of the last time he's had a full night's sleep.)

Maybe a walk would clear his head?

Izuku leaves the books and papers on his desk and stumbles away. That's a worthwhile thought. Certainly more productive than just sitting here trying to make sense of numbers that seemingly twist and spin under his gaze until they became a muddled mess. There was nothing to do here.

He hesitates as he reaches the door, looking back at his abandoned homework. He still has a few hours until his next lesson at 4. He could take a breather. It wouldn't hurt his progress; it wasn't like he was training his fire anymore. Studying could wait.

At the thought of his Quirk, Izuku's left hand finds its way to his chest. The flame's there, swaying gently within a nest of ribs. It's nowhere near as frazzled as before, but there was a certain sharpness to the way it occasionally flickered in his chest.

Not dangerous, but a warning.

(He didn't like to think about what he'll have to do, when the time comes.)

The door slides closed shut behind him as he steps out his room. His feet decides the way for him; Izuku drifted through the house, quietly skirting around the living room as he hears the television relay the news. Fuyumi is out with Natsuo to school, and their father was doing hero work.

Touya was a no go; Izuku hadn't heard a single noise from his room in nearly a month. He tried not to think about what it meant.

This left the only other living being in the house as Shoto, and Izuku didn't really want to deal with his older brother at the moment. It wasn't that he disliked the two-toned boy, but his sudden change of behavior since his illness had left Izuku feeling vulnerable.

When Kacchan was mad, it didn't take much to cheer him up again. A extra candy, a apology, a traded toy. The other boy would flip at the smallest of things, but his anger was very different than Shoto's or his father's; it burned bright and hot before dissipating in a burst of light, leaving behind darkening bruises and apologies stuttered through gritted teeth. It was temporary. Izuku never liked it, but it didn't eclipse everything else about Kacchan.

Shoto on the other hand was practically a stranger to him, blood be damned. Despite how subdued the pale boy became after Izuku's Quirk just about tried to kill its wielder, he wasn't about to forget how their relationship had been beforehand. Shoto had been so angry after that conference, and the way he had looked at Izuku -it made him want to die of shame, to just stop existing if it meant never subjecting himself to such a glare ever again.

His rage was as cold as the ice he created and lasted just as long. The flip after the sickness was a relief, but Izuku couldn't _-wouldn't-_ forget it. For as much as Shoto seemed to hate their father, his fury was just as blistering.

So Izuku avoided the living room, instead taking the hallway that led to the main entrance. He slipped out the front door, ignoring how his bare feet slid on the smooth wood. It's sunny outside. The sky's blue. There's barely any clouds.

The hard pebble hurt against the soles of his feet, but he ignored it with practiced ease. Months ago he would have considered it painful -if Inko by some work of the divine let him out of the house without proper shoes and warm, fuzzy socks- but now? He barely registered the pain. A small, twisted little part of him born out of nightmares filled with ash even welcomed it.

He reaches the koi pond. The fish are swimming lazily under the surface, but as his shadow passes over them they scatter. He has to wonder if they recognize him. Izuku hasn't read a lot about the species -or any fish, for that matter.

A year ago he'd asked for a dog, and even went of a bit of a rampage through his favorite library to learn more about them and the possible breeds he could adopt. Izuku remembered rambling on excitedly about the topic to Kacchan, who would nod along and then tell him that if he got a dog, it would probably be very small and meek like him, and if he did, he was gonna ask Aunt Mitsuki to get him the biggest dog they could find at the pound. Izuku to this day was skeptical that Aunt Mitsuki would go through with it, but he'd let it slide.

He'd showed enough dedication to the subject that Inko had even let him use the computer. Though at one point, she slipped out from his bedroom to go cook and when she'd come back, Izuku was curled up under the bed shivering and wide-eyed. The computer had been playing a barbaric battle between a villain with a telekinesis Quirk and two rookie sidekicks that were fresh out of Yuuei. It hadn't ended well.

Apparently, getting distracted watching hero fights was a very easy way to find videos that were definitely _not_ suited for someone his age. Watching villains win while tearing heroes and civilians apart had left him quiet and forlorn for almost an entire week -until Kacchan had enough and dumped his juice over him while telling Izuku to get over it.

Which brought him back to the colorful fishes he was observing. Izuku's stomach dropped lower and lower the longer he stares at the tiny little animals, remembering the way they had scattered in a blind panic after he began burning down the garden.

He couldn't risk having another accident like that again.

(Phantom limbs floated at the edge of his vision, taunting him.)

And in truth, he wished he could just leave it at that and abandon this broken mess of a Quirk in a dark corner of his mind where it could never see the light of day. It was grim, to handicap himself in such a way, but that's what he thought when he was alone, lost in his thoughts with only the flickering, content flames curling within his chest like a pleased cat.

He wishes he didn't have this.

He wishes that he never hurt Hiroi-sensei. That he wasn't sick. That he was _home_ , with Inko, with Kacchan, with Mitsuki and Masaru. It's a silent demand to the universe, a soft wish he occasionally whispers into the darkness at night in between nightmares, curled up in his futon that feels so different from his bed at home.

Most of all, he wishes his former classmates' jeers of _quirkless_ had been true.

He leaves the pond behind, the sight of the rippling water and the koi swimming under its surface sending waves of cold sliding slowly down his back. He can't be here, not any longer than he has to. Where he saw beauty and calm before, the sight of the garden leaves him feeling lonely and bitter.

Was that why none of the Todoroki came here? Did they have their own bad experiences here, did they suffer too? Had his father's fire burnt the aging trees, had Shoto covered the pond with his ice? Had Touya danced through the winding path, clad in blue flames?

He couldn't picture that last one in his head. Touya brought feelings of warmth and comfort to Izuku. The idea of his fire used to burn the lonely garden, eating away at the plant life didn't compute.

The gravel crunches under his feet as he stops at the property entrance.

Izuku stares up at the massive iron gates, thoughtful. He watches the way they glint darkly under the sun. With the isolated location of the property, tucked in the higher, richer part of Musutafu, there's barely any cars that fly by. There are people, but they are few and far in between. Izuku doesn't look at them, however.

His eyes are on the gates.

Did he have, he wonders, enough fire left in him to melt the great doors?

Fingers twitch at his side, barely held back by long nights spent tossing and twisting in the dark, drowning in nightmares full of ash and blood. It would be easy. His Quirk had already showed how fast he could reach high temperatures, quicker and stronger than his father's famous blue fire, which he could only use sparingly.

Metal meant nothing to him. It would only be a matter of stepping forward, grabbing the bars and letting the fire crawl up the veins of his arms, spilling out of his fingers in grand torrent of quicksilver-black flames.

Unlike the rest of his family, he wouldn't have to worry about the heat. The fire could never harm him. Izuku knew that. He tested it; there was nothing to worry about. Not there.

But, where would he go?

Izuku continues to fixate on the gates, unperturbed by the wind brushing his hair over his eyes. Something coils around his heart, tight and asphyxiating him with nerves. He couldn't do this. Not that he physically couldn't, but the repercussions of doing such a thing...

He swallows.

No. He couldn't do it.

He didn't have anywhere to go. It was dangerous to leave. If not to himself -oh his father would have a talk with him, just the thought sent a glacial cold throughout his body- but to others. This was lunacy. Madness.

If he did this, he would be stupid. He would be selfish.

"Izuku?"

The world

 _ **stops**_ _._

Slowly, ever so slowly, he looked beyond the gate only to stare, feet rooted to the ground, at the figure shifting hesitantly on the walkway. A woman was standing on the other side of the gate, familiar green locks falling in disarray around a round face that was the exact copy of his own. She's wearing a small green dress and was clutching her purse tightly, though it slides out of her hands when their eyes meet.

Even the fire in his gut stops moving.

Midoriya Inko smiles at him, stepping forward. It's not the smile he knows, soft and familiar and welcoming she offered him each time he got home from school. This one was soft and terribly sad and why was she here _she doesn't know she doesn't know she doesn't know what he_ _ **d i d**_ _-_

"Honey, are you alright?" Izuku watches her, frozen. She's reaching through the bars, something almost desperate in her eyes that is barely held back. A jolt runs through Izuku's body at the sound of her voice. It's been so long. "You're so thin -you haven't been eating, have you? Please, Izu -" There's a tiny, choked gulp of air as her fingers strain towards him. "Come here, please it's been too long, _please, Izuku come here-"_

She sounds desperate. For him.

 _(Melt the gates melt the gates get out go to her go to mom she's safe she's_ _ **HOME-**_ _)_

He doesn't reply.

He _can't_ reply.

There's cotton in his ears. Ice in his blood. Horror in his heart.

The words twist in his head, from the sudden overbearing desire to tear the gates apart and go to Inko to something other, something older and darker. He can feel the wetness of his shoes and socks, the biting cold of the wind -there's a pond spreading in front of him, shimmering koi dancing beautifully around mutilated limbs. Beady, evil little eyes inviting him to their feast.

Only then, he doesn't just see Hiroi-sensei's arms. There's something else there, that he can't grasp quite yet.

(A body, green-haired like his own, floating face down in the water.)

"You can't be here."

His mother freezes, hands stilling in the air. "Izuku?" So soft, so hesitant. Gentle. Home, in every sense of the word.

If he was in a more rational state of mind, he would be tempted to melt the gates and rush into her arms. If it had been a few weeks ago, he would have done just that, with no hesitation. Just tear the walls apart with a revolted, furious scream and hands fill with fire and then go to the only person that felt like home.

But that was Izuku from a few weeks ago.

The Izuku of now cannot hear anything beyond the blind terror gripping his mind in a iron grip. Whatever Inko might say -and her mouth was moving- was drowned out by the simultaneous heat and cold spreading through his body, alightning him with horror he'd only felt the night he tore Hiroi-sensei's dreams down with a bloody, relieved smile.

"You can't be here," He repeats through the lead filling his mouth. "You can't -if -it's too dangerous. Y-You need to leave." Izuku swallows. The exhale he lets out next is shaky and rough. "You _have_ to leave."

The way her eyes slowly widened nearly broke him.

"What?" She rasped. Green eyes darkened, wetness gathering on her cheeks. "I just got here-" His mother cried out and oh, how it hurt. "-I can't leave, I can't leave you no I can't!" She shakes her head violently. "I won't! Please, please honey _just come here!"_

Izuku knows that look. That desperate, stubborn terror darkening every corner of her face. It's the same feeling he felt every time he took a stand in front of Kacchan, no matter how bruised and bloody he was, no matter how ripped and dirty his clothes became. It's the look of someone who has nothing to lose.

 _ **(Melt the gates!)**_

She wasn't going to leave. Not on his own.

And as much as every piece of his body longs to tear the great gates apart and step into her arms, finally safe, finally _home_. Izuku learned better. He couldn't go with her.

So Izuku does the only thing he can think of.

He spins around and flees.

" _Izuku!"_

The wretched scream washes over him as he runs with all of his strength. It nearly makes him trip as he rushes back up the pebble road, his mother's insistent shouting and cries driving knives into his back.

His feet lead the way, for he can't see the path. The only thing he sees is Kacchan's face as he reels back, hissing while he clutched reddened fingers close to his chest and he didn't know they both didn't _know_ how close he had been from-

 _Don't look back._

A garden bathed in black, silver and purple, steam mixing with smoke as it ascended higher and higher into the sky and father was yelling-

 _Don't you dare look back._

-Hiroi-sensei's hands reaching for him, pale and grey and so very dead.

Izuku stumbles through the front door; he all but slammed it closed behind him. Knees trembling, heart lodged in his throat, his back hits the door and he slides down, exhausted. There's sweat sliding down his neck.

He takes his head into his hands and inhales deeply, biting on his lower lip hard to stifle the mindless scream threatening to rip it's way out of his throat. He couldn't believe he did that. He couldn't believe he abandoned his mother outside the gates of the property.

He was a monster.

His toes curl at the thought, and he almost bites his hand to reign in the sudden burst of self-hatred that bubbles up at the memory of his mother's heartbroken expression. Who could do such a thing?

 _You protected her moron,_ Kacchan mutters in his head. _You can't be near her. You can't leave this place, not unless you want to hurt someone. Again._

Yeah. His next inhale was better. That, that was logical. That made sense. He wasn't a complete monster. He was protecting her.

It didn't make him feel any better.

Izuku crawled to his feet, stumbling through the house towards the only source of sound beyond himself. He finds his way to the living room, where Shoto is curled up on the couch in a rare moment of peace, eyes narrowed as they watch a newsreel about a hero Izuku doesn't recognize. It's one of the few times Izuku sees the boy doing something else other than eating, studying, training or preparing to train.

The older boy glances away from the screen as the floorboards creak under Izuku's feet. Their gazes meet. Something dark passes through Shoto's expression as he looks at him up and down.

Neither of them speak.

Izuku fidgets, well aware of his state of disarray. "Can I?" Nervously, he gestures at the couch.

Maybe it's the look on his face, but Shoto nods wordlessly and shuffles aside, letting him take a spot next to him. Izuku ambles over, flopping down next to the older boy. At any other point, he would be excited to see a new hero, but not now.

Now he just feels exhausted.

There's a small spot of warmth where his older brother was curled up. Izuku sinks into the heat, eyelashes fluttering as he tries to concentrate on the news reel playing on the television.

He fails.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

It takes him two weeks before he dares to take a step outside the main building.

He doesn't tell Fuyumi or Natsuo about how his mother showed up at the gates, or the fact he practically abandoned her there. He doesn't dare mention it to his father, either. He can't give him any ideas. The fact that his father hadn't mentioned Inko at all was enough to clue him in that she'd come here of her own accord, without telling Endeavor.

Izuku doesn't want to know how he would react if he did know.

He never steps near the gate again.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

The fire is cold inside him. Clock's ticking again.

Izuku still dreams of dancing koi and severed arms. The water laps at his ankles, and he feels the cold down to his bones as he kneels down and reaches for the disembodied limbs.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

" _Where's Touya?"_ He asks Natsuo one day. He watched as his brother hunched his shoulders and walks away. _Where is he?_ He asks Fuyumi another, and she shakes her head. " _Do you know where Touya is?"_ He finally asked two days later to the second youngest Todoroki while they were sitting in the estate's library, working together on a writing assignment in a rare instance of sibling cooperation.

Shoto offered him a empty stare.

" _I've never met him."_

It's been a day and Izuku still couldn't wrap his head around the answer. It doesn't compute with what he remembers, what he knows of the eldest of the Todoroki brood. Why hadn't Touya met with Shoto before? His visit to Izuku during his illness showed at he had no qualms about showing up without permission from their father.

Touya had been kind to him. He'd helped him. A small part of Izuku's brain told him he would be dead without the red-haired teen's intervention, and Izuku didn't have anything to refute the claim. His illness had been that bad.

Knowing what he knew now, Izuku was starting to grasp just how separate his older brother was from the family. How distant. It was one thing not being around, but another to never have met your younger brother.

It made Izuku rethink the way he thought about the eldest Todoroki child. Would he only show up when he was bedridden once more? Dying? Or he wouldn't bother this time around? Izuku winces, clutching his chest.

It's not a nice thought.

He curls up tighter on the tatami floor, nails digging into the ground. He's sitting in the middle of Endeavor's training chamber, the closest he was able to bring himself to going into _that_ room. If he just turned his head to the right, he could see the closed sliding doors leading to the second training room. The last time he did let his gaze wander, the hair at the back of his neck rose up and he ended like this, weak-kneed and sitting on the floor like a child.

(Wasn't he one, though?)

The sound of a sliding door drags him out of that dark, poisonous corner of his mind.

"There you are."

Shoto.

"You," Izuku pauses, wetting his lips nervously. "...you were looking for me?"

"Yeah?" There's nervousness in Shoto's eyes, but it disappears almost as fast as it came. "You weren't in your room. Or the library. O-or the garden."

Izuku couldn't bring himself to respond to that. He just stares stubbornly ahead, refusing to make any effort to move the conversation forward. Maybe if he stays quiet, a small part of him thinks childishly, maybe then his brother would leave.

(There's a familiar cold crawling at his extremities, a silent omen that makes him want to cry.)

"'m not stupid." Shoto grumbles, jaw clenching. "You're not training. Father barely looks at you anymore. Something happened." He's right, but it's not like he was going to tell Shoto the truth. If Endeavor wanted to spare his brother the truth about what happened to his tutor, then Izuku would follow in his footsteps. Bad enough already that Natsuo and Fuyumi were told something by the way they skirted around him like he was a loaded gun, and though he couldn't discern what they were told, he could make a guess.

Izuku has to look away.

"Where's your teacher?"

He can't stop the full body flinch. From the corner of his vision, he sees Shoto's eyes flash.

"When's the last time you met him?" His older sibling pushes, stepping forward. He's only a scant four feet away now, and Izuku would very much like for him to leave. He couldn't bring himself to say it though. He's too much of a coward to do so.

"Shoto." Izuku warns, turning his head away from the older boy. "Don't."

"Don't what?" The older boy snaps back, almost challengingly.

The fire _lurches_ , and Izuku closes his eyes and breathes, trying to keep it calm.

It's fascinating really, how easily Shoto could push the right buttons, buttons Izuku didn't even know he had until now. They were practically strangers and his brother somehow made him feel more grated and bare than anything Kacchan ever did to him.

"Don't do this. Whatever you're trying to do, don't." Izuku tries to tell him, voice forlorn. "There's nothing good that's going to come out of it." The bags under his eyes sting. Izuku wants to press his palms into his eye sockets again, but hold it there until it starts hurting.

If Shoto wasn't here, he would be following through with that thought.

"I'm sorry, but I'm tired of secrets." Shoto crosses his arms and peers down at him, hands clenched. "I don't get you. You come here, you get sick, you get worse then you get better, but then you get worse again. I don't know what to think. You're confusing." That last part was muttered petulantly.

 _What are you worth to him?_

Izuku's lips purses.

 _At this point, nothing._

"You're worse again." Shoto continues, unknowingly setting Izuku's nerves alight with panic. "Is this going to keep going? Is it part of your Quirk, or are you just weak by design?" _Ow_. Shoto probably wasn't aware of how much that last part hurt. It only made him feel slightly better. "Why do you keep hiding?"

Izuku jerks his head up, bristling. "I'm not hiding!"

"Yes you are!" Shoto snarls, eyes sharp. 'You're always hiding away!" Fire sparks on his left arm, licking up his elbow and slightly blackening his shirt.

The warmth washes over Izuku, and he freezes. There's no way he can resist, not this suddenly.

Against his will black fire rises up, crawling out of his veins to lunge forward.

Shoto screams.

A moment ago, Izuku is sitting there, watching his fire lunge for his brother's wide-eyed, terrified, vulnerable face. He can only watch how it lights up the pale skin, highlighting the angry red scar covering half of his face.

Then he's sprawled on the ground halfway across the dojo, choking and coughing as he spits out the remains of his dinner. The fire shudders in his chest, twitching erratically under his ribs, unsettled.

Trembling, Izuku looks up.

His father is standing in front of Shoto, arm still raised, fist clenched into a punch that's still smoking. The gloves of his suit is burnt and peeled back, revealing reddened skin. Blood drips down his knuckles. There's no black fire in sight -Izuku feels it return to him, frazzled and suffocated.

As for Endeavor's expression-

His father looks _livid_.

"Shoto." Enji Todoroki breathes lowly, almost _gently_ , and Izuku's never felt terror on this level. It coils around him, digging icy claws into his bones, sending sparks of burning frost through his blood. "Go to your room."

It's said levelly, as if talking about the weather -but there's pure, sharpened steel hidden in his tone.

And that look on Endeavor's face. It was unlike anything Izuku had ever seen, and as his mind slipped down and became a jittery mess of jumbled thoughts and twitching panic, there's only one solid string of thought that come to him.

 _He's gonna kill me._

It was a hysterical thought, but somehow, it works.

Shoto hesitates from where he lays on the floor, curled up into himself in a meek attempt to shield his face from Izuku's fire. It wouldn't have mattered, no ice or fire his older brother could produce would have stopped it. If their father hadn't been there-

"Fa-"

" _ **NOW!"**_

The two-toned boy jolts, scrambling out of the room at their father's unexpected roar. Izuku bows his head, heart thumping furiously in his ribcage. He can hear the thundering footsteps, heading right for him.

He heaves up to his knees, head bowing in a pointless attempt at an apology.

"Father-"

Endeavor's hand latches on his right arm.

It takes a moment for him to register the heat. Izuku screamed as flesh smoked and sizzled. _Oh god he's-_ He struggled in his father's grasp, fighting like a fish stuck at the end of a line. It's hopeless.

"Please!" He shrieks through the tears, sagging in his bonds. He smells burnt flesh. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, _please stop-"_

Endeavor lets him go like he's carrying a plague, eyes wide as if he suddenly realize what he's doing.

With his father's hold over him broken, there's no strength left in him to stand. Izuku crumbles to the ground in a twisted heap of limbs, tucking his burnt arm against his chest. Tears pricked at the corner of his eyes and he had to fight to prevent his last meal from going up, again.

He didn't find it in himself to fault Endeavor.

He nearly…

 _I nearly…._

"You could have killed him."

 _I know I know I know-_

He's spinning out of control, his mind's breaking at its seams. Shoto's face floats to the front of his mind, the expression he made when Izuku nearly killed him oh god was it the same face he made when Hiroi-sensei had-

 _I'm a monster._

"I'm sorry..." Izuku croaked, hiccuping.

"If I didn't intervene," Endeavor breathed slowly, forcefully, as if he was holding back. Izuku didn't blame him. "...Shoto would have lost his _head_."

Izuku let out a pained, agonized wail and curled into himself in a childish attempt to block out the truth behind Endeavor's words. It hurt, more than the burn his father inflicted. He shivers on the floor, almost seizing from the force behind each of his sobs.

"You can't control it at all, can you?!"

"I can't help it!" Izuku screams, his voice tapping off as he struggles to bring enough air into his lungs. Everything hurt. He just wanted to lie there and _die_.

"This isn't just a loss of control, Izuku." Endeavor roars at him, foot stomping inches away from his head. The green-haired boy flinches, breath hitching. "This -this is beyond just losing your hold on your Quirk! Mutated or not, part of your Quirk is born from mine, and I never lost control the way you do!"

His words ring true. Izuku relaxes against the floor, his limbs trembling at his sides. Distantly, he's made aware of the smell of blood lingering in the air. He can't bring himself to look at his arm.

His father is a towering presence over him.

Waiting.

"Well?"

"It's just too much." Izuku lets the words flow out, the pain coupled by exhaustion taking away any restraint he had. "Sometimes there's not enough and it's too much, I need to...I need to…" The ugly words clog his throat, refusing to come out.

"Too much…?"

"I...I-I…." Izuku's vision swims as he tries to get his tongue back into working order.

What could he say? How could he say it?

He's not Touya. He doesn't have the same way with words, he doesn't know as well as his older brother. Once more, Izuku wishes he was here.

But he isn't, is he? And Izuku's alone.

All alone and in so much _pain_.

The next sob nearly makes him choke on his spit.

"Breathe." His father tells him sharply, voice deceptively calm like Shoto didn't almost lose his head and Izuku's arm wasn't smoking.

Izuku shakely nods, hiccuping. His arm hurt and he was starting to feel numb.

"Better? Now, speak. What do you mean by too much?"

"It's like a pressure, I-I can't hold it anymore." He sniffs. "It hurts." "S-Shoto...he kept pushing I just...I just had to let it out...I'm sorry…"

Endeavor growls above him. "Stop apologizing." He reprimands Izuku, who ducks his head low again. He hears a sigh; glancing up, he's treated to the sight of the pro-hero squatting down to peer at him more closely. With his bulk, he towers well over Izuku. "Tell me, Izuku." His father pauses, mulling over his words. There's a carefully crafted blank expression on his face. "What is your body telling you?"

Izuku's taken off guard by that. "I...I…what?"

Of everything, he wasn't expecting that from Enji Todoroki.

"Close your eyes and focus. What is your body telling you to do?"

There's a moment where he stares at his father, confused.

(The fire shudders in his ribs.)

Then the answer's leaving his lips before he can register what he's saying. "Burn." He whispers, breathless. His eyes flick up to meet the cold blue of his father. "I need to burn something."

 _I need to let go._

The flames churn in his chest, rabid.

Starved.

(There's little to no kindle left in this tiny, broken body.)

Through tears, he watches his father's reaction. Endeavor's expression is unreadable. Then there's a hand wrapping tightly around his uninjured wrist, making him cry out in panic before he register that there's no burn.

Izuku's head swims as he's dragged to his feet and escorted out the door.

A wordless noise of panic leaves him. "W-where-"

"Quiet."

Endeavor all but slams the door of the dojo open before stomping down the hallway towards the main hall. Izuku could barely hang on. His mind was stuck in tar, and he felt lightheaded. His father's hand dwarfs his, his grip a handcuff around his limb.

What was happening?

As they walk down the hall, Izuku struggling to catch up, the boy's panicked green eyes dart wildly around the room. His breath hitches as his gaze crosses with blue and grey peeking out from behind a door. Shoto was watching them, eyes wide and startled. His gaze shifts down to Izuku's right arm, held tight against his chest, soaking the fabric in ruby red blood.

He freezes. "W-what's going on?"

Endeavor's quick to brush him off. "Nothing that involves you, Shoto. Go to sleep."

Shoto's expression darkens.

"Where are you taking him?" He growls and oh that is not good.

Izuku wants to scream. _Help me. Don't let him take me away._ Kacchan's face floats in front of his mind, accusing, his expression only opening into something more when it was too late.

Then he remembers what he just did, what could have happened -now the burn on his arm doesn't seem like _enough_.

"Shoto." Endeavor barks, voice tight and dangerous. "Go to sleep, now."

"It's okay," Izuku croaks, barely able to stand on his feet. His arm hurt, the burn a growing pain that travels up his limb and spreads through his body. He could hear the blood dripping steadily onto the floor. "...g-go Shoto. E-everything's fine."

Apparently, that was the worst thing Izuku could have said. He didn't know why, but it seemed to strike a chord within his older brother. Shoto's face grew tight and pinched, and he stepped out of the room fully, planting his feet in front of Endeavor.

"Liar." He hisses, ignoring Izuku as he curls his hands into fists and glares at their father. "You're taking him away too, aren't you?"

Izuku blinks. _Too?_ He has to scratch his head a bit for his mind to muster up the proper answer.

Right. Rei.

"Shoto, last warning."

"I'm not going to let you-"

"You're not going to let me do anything!" Endeavor roars. The fire on his face blazes brightly, nearly touching the ceiling. Izuku gasps and flinches away. "Go to _sleep_ , I'll take care of things!"

"You can't take him away!" Shoto yells back with that anger Izuku was becoming familiar with, that danger that could only be overshadowed by their father. "D-don't. _Please_."

Endeavor's expression closes even further. "That will depend."

 _On what?_

The man shoulders past Shoto, who barely catches himself from falling over. Izuku follows, having little choice in the matter as he was being yanked along by his wrist. It's nearly as painful as the burn running up the side of his right arm.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

They're in the car.

Endeavor was driving, expression set and closed as he gazed out into the night. Izuku sits in the passenger seat at his side. A small, distant part of him mutters about the legality of it, but the throbbing ache of his arm keep his thoughts from straying.

His naked feet chafe against the hard leather of the seat. The thick seat belt digs into his chin as he curls up, tucking his injured limb against his chest.

The pain keeps him from passing out; the fear keeps him from screaming.

He's unsure of how much time they take until they reach their destination. The sky's dark as ink outside when Endeavor opens the driver's door and steps outside. Izuku can hear him moving around the vehicle, reaching for the passenger side. For a brief moment of hysteria, his one functioning arm reaches out and lands a hand on the door handle.

His father opens it before he can gather the courage to do so.

He's brought out of the car; his feet never scrape the ground as his father picks him up with one hand and begins stalking through the dark. Only his beard lit the way, casting orange shadows on a old dirt path and what looked like the ruins of a building.

It not the only one, either. The longer they keep walking, the more broken edifices appear. Small house to five-story buildings block the sides of the path. The windows of the stores are broken and there are vines growing on the brick facade of most edifices. Izuku tries to keep his breathing under control as Endeavor continues to walk forth, unperturbed by the lack of light.

Time passes. Izuku jolts slightly as his feet meet the ground again.

Blinking, he looks up at his father's face, which was closed off and indecipherable.

"I'm going to step away." Endeavor tells him with a low but authoritative voice. "You will let yourself go." A pause. Izuku gulps. Surely he didn't mean- "Do _anything_ you feel like doing, and don't worry about the consequences."

The fire lurches in his chest, interested. Izuku gapes up at his father, wide-eyed.

"But that's dangerous." He manages to croak out.

His father's glare is flat. "Izuku, just do as I say." Endeavor reprimands him, stepping away. Izuku sways for a moment, but manages to stay up. "Let go."

Then he turns around and walks off in a hurried pace, vanishing in between the crumbling building. He leaves Izuku standing there clad in a thin shirt and pants, shivering in the nighttime breeze. Izuku watches him go in silence, the few words of protest his mind had managed to form dying before they ever left his lips.

He's left there, alone in the dark. For a moment, Izuku contemplates just sitting down, curling up in the dirt and sleeping, for however long his nightmares would let him until they inevitably came to visit.

Then he looks around himself, barely making out the shape of the old buildings around him. It looked like a old abandoned distinct out of town, likely destroyed from a villain attack where people never really got around returning and rebuilding it. Izuku had seen documentaries at sites like these, and he knew that they were more common than the average civilian believed.

This also meant that there was nobody around for, likely, several hundred feet around him. Only Endeavor and himself, in the dark, with moon rising high over his head. He was completely and utterly alone.

There was nobody here that Izuku could hurt.

The green-haired boy rests his unarmed left hand on his chest, feeling the rapid turns and twists of the fire in his ribcage. If anything, it felt excited. Izuku himself felt it too at the prospect of some ounce of relief. It's shameful. For a moment he thinks of kois and burned hands, but Izuku manages to power through them.

There's nobody here to hurt but himself, so if he wanted…

Izuku lifts both arms on either side of his head. Obsidian flames crawl up his arms, flaring and stretching like a content cat around him.

" _Let go."_

The cage snaps, and the black fire comes roaring out.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

He dances amongst the ash, black fire twisting around him. Trailing up his arms, drifting fingers of blue and purple over his skin, brushing his hair with white. Abandoned old buildings crumble away around him as flames grow like vines on it's walls, eating away at the bricks and the dirty, rotten wood underneath. Grass yellows under his feet; cracked pavement blacken and break under the unbelievable heat Izuku was radiating, though he barely acknowledges it.

He's more focused on the painful release of tension growing from his heart and spreading through his body like a big, agonizing sore he hadn't been aware of until now. Such was his focus, he never noticed how the fire formed around him, how certain buildings were crushed before they were incinerated, that each one of his steps made the earth tremble and the flames roar.

The ash rises up around him like freshly fallen snow, clinging to his naked skin.

Izuku feels warm.

He _breathes_.

Deep, great lungfuls that he releases in hysterical, relieved laughter.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Izuku wakes up to a sky full of ash.

His limbs felt too heavy to move. He was naked, covered in soot and dirt; but he feels light, lighter than he'd ever felt before. The crushing, heady weight compressing his body was gone. Completely, and utterly gone. The fire sits in his chest, warm and pleasant, not even moving with how floated and full it was. And yet despite this there was no pressure, no sensation that he was going to burst.

Only a soothing sense of whole remained, permeating through his body. It's the first time in months that Izuku wants to cry in relief.

And he does.

Izuku doesn't know how long he lays there, naked as the day he was born, dressed in only the remnants of a town. Staring up at the dark blue sky with wide, lost eyes and a relieved expression on his face. Tears drip down his cheeks, mixing with the dirt and ash in a combination that should feel disgusting, but he can't register the sensation beyond the exhilarating relief that comes with letting it out.

At least a hour had passed when he feels strong arms wrap around him, warmth that wasn't his own seeping into his body. Lifted from the bed of ashes, Izuku could only flutter his eyes in a vain attempt to discern the lump of colors in front of him.

The strength in the limbs holding him was unmistakable, however. As were the flames dancing above his head, just barely brushing against the green curls atop of his head. There's the rustle of fabric and then he's wrapped in something moderately soft and most of all, warm with body heat. Exhausted, the young boy sinks into it, the warmth spreading from the close contact and the borrowed clothes leaving him in a drifting, almost catatonic state.

Izuku feels footsteps, the body holding him shifting with every step. His father was walking, away from the epicenter of the fire. Against every self-preservation instinct -which were right now fried and not on call- he drunkenly reached out to touch Endeavor's face. His father makes no move to shush or push his hand away, and delirious from the lack of pain he's not really aware of what he's doing, so Izuku trails his fingers over the fiery beard he'd eyed for so long.

It's not distant, soft and cold like his. The orange flames feels warm and strong, wrapping around his trembling hand curiously. Enji twitches at the touch, but he doesn't pull away.

He just keeps walking, solemn and quiet. It's unsettling.

"What did I do?" He finally croaks through black lips. There's ash on his face. It pulls every time he moves his facial muscles. "Father...what did you see?"

There's a long stretch of silence.

When Enji speaks, his voice is soft.

"A titan."

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

" _What did you do to him?"_

Izuku blinks, awake.

Sleepily, he tilts his head away from the crook of his father's arm and looks at the source of the snarl.

Shoto was standing in front of their father, tiny hands clenched into fists. His right was pale and covered in a thin film of ice, and the right hand was smoking. It wasn't the first time Izuku saw his brother's Quirk in action, but it still gave him pause.

And then there was his expression.

Shoto looked _livid_.

The expression on his face is not unlike the one Izuku weathered after that press conference. Only this time, it was directed at their father. There's wetness at the corner of his eyes. The burn scar almost blends with his skin, with how flushed and red his face was.

Izuku fights against the waves of exhaustion bearing down on him. His brother didn't just look furious -there was something else there, something wild and desperate that resonated with the green-haired boy. He's seen that look before.

Desperation.

Twisting in his father's grasp, Izuku looks up at Endeavor and offers him a flat, expecting glare through a blurry vision. Or at least, as much of a glare as he can muster while trying not to fall flat asleep in his arms. The fire feels like a solid weight in his chest, denser than ever before, and staying lucid was becoming a herculean task.

There's a resigned sigh.

"Fine." A restrained inhale. "Follow me."

Then they're moving again.

Narrow-eyed and wary, Shoto follows their father closely as Endeavor walks to the sleeping quarters. Izuku watches him through bleary eyes, noting his shifty posture, hunched back and clenched hands. His eyes were fixed on the eldest Todoroki as if he was expecting the man to do something wrong.

At one point his gaze flicked down, meeting bright but sleepy green. Izuku tried to offer him some comfort with a tiny if not crooked smile. His reward was Shoto wrinkling his nose in a way that was identical to their father when he was displeased.

Showering with Shoto standing guard by the door like a hawk and their father holding him up is embarrassing, but Izuku manages to work through it. He scrubs the ash out of his skin, pries it out of his hair. He chokes a bit when Endeavor hesitantly dumps a small bucket of warm water over his head without warning, getting rid of the shampoo and the frotty grey bubbles that formed on his scalp. Izuku chokes a bit on the sudden water, but he works through it.

After the bath, the burn on his forearm is cleaned and ointment is applied. Izuku sits on the toilet as his father bandages the limb, only wincing occasionally as the dressing are tightened around the wound. Still no words are exchanged between the two of them.

It's slightly useless, to try and mend the injury. Where a dark, angry burn and flaking skin had once been, the skin was now smooth and pale, lacking hair and glinting under the moonlight like a old, faded scar. Izuku stares at in in silence. He doesn't need to look up to know his father is doing the same.

Shoto continues to be a silent shadow when Izuku is brought to his bedroom, clean, hair puffy, skin cleared and dressed with some old pijamas he'd brought over from his old home.

The second youngest Todoroki darts into the room before their father, grabbing the futon and ripping it open. Endeavor silently walks over to his dual-haired son's side, kneeling down to rest Izuku within the bed. The moment his hands leave Izuku Shoto's there, gripping the bedsheets and pulling them up to his chin.

Izuku would be a liar if he didn't admit he melted a bit as he was wrapped in the covers, the heat from the sated fire within his chest spreading through his limbs and seeping into the fabric. It feels like there's a heater within the bed, only that heater is Izuku. It's a strange way of thinking, but he isn't exactly aware enough to contemplate the logistics of it.

Cracking his eyes open, he finds Shoto sitting at the edge of his bed next to his upper body, his two-toned hair falling over his eyes. One of his hands is resting on top of the bedsheets, over Izuku's chest. The intensity of his expression had lessened -instead, there's a muddled, tired look on his face. Like he's still angry but it's been reigned in, and exhaustion was setting in.

(How long had he been aware while Izuku was gone? Had he waited, this entire time?)

Their father moves away; Izuku watches him pause at the door. He looks like he wants to say something, by the way his gaze drifts between Shoto and Izuku. Ultimately, he purses his lips and leaves, closing the door shut behind him carefully.

This left them both alone, and Izuku fights the exhaustion in favor of looking at his brother in the eyes. He inhales. "I-"

"You're not fine." Shoto finished incorrectly, and Izuku squints.

"I wasn't. I am now." He pauses, contemplating what to say. "There's nothing to worry about."

Shoto's face scrunched up, stretching the sacred skin over his blue eye. "Liar. There's always something." He murmurs, something haunted passing through his eyes.

Izuku can feel the heat blooming on his cheeks. He doesn't need a mirror to know that he's blushing with shame.

"I thought he took you away."

Izuku jolts and looks up. Shoto's eyes were glassy, tears dripping down his cheeks and hitting the bedding next to Izuku's head. He tries to speak, but only a short wheeze leaves his lips.

Shoto's crying.

 _Shoto's crying._

He doesn't feel as warm anymore.

"I thought he took you away," Shoto repeats, voice breaking and Izuku's heart burns with the desire to comfort his older brother. He's still bundled under the covers however. "...like mom, like Rei -I thought he was going to make you disappear, too." The two-toned boy sniffles, lifting his left arm and rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. It's a worthwhile effort, but pointless in the end. The tears and snot keep coming. "I didn't want you to go."

A small, tiny hiccup.

"I didn't want you to leave me."

Is that what his brother was fighting, all along? How long had Shoto waited at home after their father dragged him away?

Izuku couldn't comprehend how the other boy was not burning down everything in sight.

"Im sorry," He murmurs, and Shoto makes a tiny wounded whine that tears at his heart. "I'm not leaving, onii-san. I'm not. Father -we talked. I'm here. I'm staying. I'm _here_." He repeats those last words over and over again into Shoto's offered hand, trying to comfort his brother without moving from his bed. Shoto shudders at his side, muscles clenching and unclenching, uncertain.

 _I'm staying._

(Was he a Todoroki now, then? He didn't like to think about it, but if it kept Shoto close...)

His hesitation only lasts a moment. Izuku shifts under the covers, lifting them up in a silent offering as he scots further back into the futon. Shoto stares, head tilting, his nose scrunching with barely hidden confusion. Still, Izuku waits patiently, his arm for once not trembling from holding up the thick bed sheets.

There's a pause where his older brother weighs his options. Then Shoto's crawling into the futon with him, curling his arms around his waist carefully like he would break at the slightest pressure. For once, Izuku doesn't mind. His older brother's deathly silent. The younger boy feels his sibling's breath on the top of his head, ruffling his hair.

Someone with more pride would have pulled away, grumbling at being handled like a invalid. They wouldn't press closer, wouldn't place their heads on their brother's chest, ear flat against the soft fabric of his shirt so they could hear their heartbeat.

Not him.

Not Izuku.

Because this time, Izuku can go to sleep with a smile on his lips and a fire in his heart that for once, only radiates warmth.

* * *

 **Fuck me I'm dead on my feet.**


	6. Chapter 6

**In which Shouto and Izuku bond and an attempt was made at parenting. Truly a bronze star there, Endeavor.**

 **AKA this chapter could be named** ' _ **I made too many people cry so here's some damn fluff and plot development'**_ **before the lot of you murder me in my sleep.**

 **Note: Going to change every Shoto to Shouto or die trying cuz I gotta stap writing it like that. Last chapter was 45 pages-ish pray for my poor ass I gotta go back and review each one. I'm learning my lesson, as well as discovering the fact that I'm a masochist, apparently.**

 **Note 2: To the person who referred to Enji as En** _ **dad**_ **vor, I hate you. I loathe your very existence. I can't get that out of my head now, hope ur happy .**

 **Anyhow, here we go.**

* * *

"Shouto."

Silence.

"Shooooutooo."

A grunt.

"Shooooooutoooooo-"

 _Thump_.

He heard Shouto hiss somewhere above him like a agitated cat, struggling weakly under the covers in a attempt to pull them back over his head. Izuku continues to bury his head into his stomach, forcing him awake by pushing half his weight into the older boy's belly.

His brother tries stubbornly to hold on to the last dreads of slumber that the warm covers offer, him but it was to no avail. Not with a small weight half on top of him, or a small nose pressing into his tummy like a blunt little knife. The arm sprawled on top of his face wasn't helping either.

Izuku had enough experience during rare sleepovers with Kacchan to master this art -and how to dodge, but that was something else entirely. Within a few minutes, he hears the defeated sigh he was waiting for.

"Enough," Shouto groans through the palm on top of his face, his voice somehow managing to transmit every ounce of dejected regret he had about this. "I'll get up."

"Good." The green haired boy rolls off him with a hum, sliding off the futon like a limp noodle. He reaches blindly for his socks and shoes, then crawls to his closet to get proper wear. As much as he would prefer staying in his warm, comfortable old pijamas, there was no way Izuku wanted a free lecture from their father about proper wear.

He barely tolerated these impromptu sleepovers as it was; Izuku didn't want him to take it out on Shouto during training today.

A clean pair of black shorts, a pale green shirt and a soft dark green sweater later, Izuku walks out of his closet to see that Shoto sitting on the futon with his own shoes and socks on. Sleep clung to every inch of his face as he yawned and rubbed his scared eye.

Izuku made a wordless noise of displeasure at that, making the older boy drop the arm and squint at him.

They leave the youngest Todoroki's bedroom together, and head for Shouto's next. Izuku waits by his door as his brother changes, the two-toned boy not wanting to attract their father's ire either. Once Shouto emerged, wearing a grey-blue shirt and pale shorts, they walk down the hall together.

Their hands brush occasionally, but both siblings were too shy, still to awkward with each other to link their arms. Izuku's right arm was still tender as well; Shouto avoided touching the injured limb too much, nervous and wary that contact might injure him further, skirting around the arm like it would crumble at the touch. Izuku wasn't sure if that's how it worked, but the gesture was touching nevertheless.

It was nice to know someone cared.

The limb was treated and bandaged, the white of the dressing contrasting neatly with the healthy hue of his skin. He's no longer chalk white and his cheeks were rosier, bringing out his freckles. Over a week passed since the incident, yet their father hadn't allowed Izuku free of the bandages on his arm, likely in a attempt to reduce the amount of scarring that would be left in the wake of his impulsive action.

Izuku still doesn't blame him for it.

(Wryly, he thinks it's a good reminder.)

There's no fear of his fire rushing out to consume things for now, and it would be a long time until that issue came up again. By then, Izuku was determined to be ready. He wouldn't fail again.

He couldn't.

Weary of a repeat, Izuku kept a obsessive watch over his Quirk after the incident. It's pointless though; the furnace in his ribcage felt warm and full, a sharp contrast to the small fire or tiny candlelight he'd felt before. He had a long time before it went dry; he was constantly aware of it's heavy mass under his skin. It was plenty enough fuel to last him months. Given, that is, he didn't too much of it at once.

This wasn't a concern however as Izuku had yet to call upon his flames since that night.

It was still early in the morning; dawn had only recently passed, and the wood floorboards of the hallways were bathed in soft orange hues from the light trickling in from the tall window at the end of the hall. The wood creaked under Izuku's shoes. There's a moment where he wishes he was barefooted so he could feel the warmth of the wood flooring under his feet.

Izuku doesn't dare kick off his shoes though. If any part of him was in disarray Endeavor would never let him see the end of it.

The thought nearly makes him wince. He's so caught up in his thoughts, it takes a moment for Izuku to notice there was a distinct lack of short, dual-haired child at his side.

"Where…?" He trails off, looking noting how Shouto had moved towards the bathroom and was gesturing him to follow with a sharp jerk of his head. His mouth snaps shut.

Right.

His teeth.

(It still felt strange, having to do everything on his own. He's almost forgotten what his mother's voice sounded like when she called out to his sleepy, bleary-eyed self in the morning, reminding him to brush his teeth.)

Shouto stands on his toes and snags his toothbrush, a pale blue object with his name neatly written in thick black sharpy. He reaches for the toothpaste and starts on his routine, completely immersed in his task. So much so, Izuku has twist and dance and wiggle a bit around him to go get his own green toothbrush. He's already small to begin with, the body blocking his way wasn't helping.

It's only when the green haired boy gathers enough courage to nudge his older sibling that Shouto blinks at him questioningly with a mouth filled with foam, like he'd wondering why the smaller child was interrupting his routine.

Izuku sheepishly points to the sink and with a grunt of realization, the scarred boy wordlessly steps aside.

There was still an awkwardness with the way they moved around each other. For Shouto, it was born out of habit of being alone and for his younger brother, it was the result of his own shyness and hesitation when it came to interacting with any of the Todorokis.

Despite this, when they enter the kitchen they do it together.

Izuku immediately goes for the fridge, opening it with a bit of fussing. The door was almost too heavy for his small body, but pulling with his weight does wonders to get the massive door open. His eyes roam over the tupperware food, looking for the right label. After a moment, he settles for the rice and the egg roll container, for they were the easiest to warm up.

In the meantime, Shouto focuses his attention to the table, setting the required dishes on the smooth dark wood and fetching the water, the glass and the utensils. He arranges each one carefully, making sure he did no sound as he settled them on the table. By the time he was done and turned to assist his little brother, Izuku was placing the last of the cold containers on the nearest surface and was trying to figure out the stove settings.

Shouto climbs up a chair to fetch one of the pans hanging on the wall and together they manage to warm up the food with little incident. As they wait, Shouto watches the food intensely while Izuku fiddles with his fingers, tracing his scarred arm with a thoughtful look.

He doesn't miss how Shouto glances at the injury from the corner of his eyes, or how he touches his own scar when he turns away.

Once the rolls and the rice were sufficiently warmed, Shouto pulls the pan to the side and turns the stove off. Izuku fetches the plates from the table, placing it close so Shouto can lift the pan and the green-haired boy can scoop the food out with a large spoon onto the two dinner plates. It's hard work for five year olds, but Shouto was strong enough to do it.

Empty pan safely in the sink, they take their dishes and go to the table together. To his relief, Izuku's hands only wobble once by the time he can set it down. Meal assembled, they sit side to side on one side of the massive table.

There's some awkward shuffling as they reach for their utensils. Izuku picks at the heated up food, wrinkling his nose as he nibbles on a piece of meat. It doesn't taste bad -nothing the lady made ever did- but it wasn't Fuyumi's cooking or Inko's.

It was perfectly consumable, at the very least.

Could be worse.

(Could be Natsuo's charred eggs when he used the kitchen without Fuyumi's supervision.)

He should stop whining about it. At least he had food. Shoulders dropping, he slips a discrete glance at Shouto. His older brother seemed to have no issue eating the food, shoveling it into his mouth swiftly and efficiently like he had to leave right away afterwards to do something. He didn't, since their father had likely gone to work already and training was in the afternoon.

Did Shouto even know how to savor the food? Just sit there and let the taste wash over his tongue? Or had he forgotten?

It was disconcerting. Izuku had eaten quickly before, but it was when he was late to school and his mother was running up and down the house trying to not to show her panic as she searched for his things and _no, Izuku, you can't watch that cartoon right now we need to hurry-_

His heart twinges. Izuku's chopsticks hover over the food as he sits there, memories of a green dress, wide eyes and tearful cries of his name brushing against the edge of his mind like ice-cold metal against bare skin. He barely suppresses the shudder.

He couldn't think about it. Not now.

Muffled sounds made their heads snap up from their plates towards the door, hearts stuttering within small ribcages. Bleary eyed and oblivious of how her entrance had broken the fragile peace hovering over her siblings Fuyumi walks into the room, hair done and already dressed to go to school.

She pauses at the sight of them, her turquoise eyes hovering over the two of them. She looked like seeing them sitting together having breakfast was the last thing she was expecting.

Or maybe it could have been the fact that Shouto was eating in the kitchen with him at all.

Slowly and carefully as if they were easily startled deer, Fuyumi walked past them and headed for the kitchen, avoiding eye contact as if doing such would send them hiding in their rooms. A soft noise of greeting left her as she brushed by Izuku, who answered in turn.

Shouto just kept eating, unbothered by her presence. Izuku was sure that if it had been their father, things would have gone differently.

Come to think of it, he'd never really seen Shouto interact with any of his siblings before. Fuyumi brings him food, of course, but by her reaction Shouto was acting differently. Unfortunately, Izuku hadn't lived with the Todoroki family long enough to gauge if this was true or not.

It felt too confusing for his five year old brain. Why wouldn't Shouto eat with his family? Izuku couldn't think of a moment from before where he had eaten alone. Was it how things ran here, or it because of Shouto's mother?

"You should eat." Izuku startles, looking at Shouto questioningly. The older boy was watching him with a blank face, though his narrowed eyes betrayed something that the green haired child couldn't grasp quite just yet. "You're too small. Eat."

Izuku's nose wrinkles. "Am not." He retorts in a mumbling tone.

Shouto just blinks slowly in response, just like an owl. Izuku's pretty sure he heard Fuyumi make a choked noise somewhere in the kitchen.

Embarrassed, he ducks his head and digs into the food, trying to fight off a tiny smile.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

It would be a lie to say that things went smoothly after the incident. That Izuku woke up and went about his day without feeling like the events of the past few weeks -what he'd seen, what he'd done- weren't weighting on him.

Fuyumi and Natsuo still skirted around him like they were expecting him to break or worse, lash out at them.

This was one thing that didn't change -and it wasn't the only one.

Izuku still woke up at night sometimes, bright flashes of _koi fire ash_ still dancing in front of his eyes when he wakes. He has to stifle his screams into his covers to keep the howls from waking up the entire house.

Twice, it happened when Shouto was sleeping in his room with him.

Choking and sobbing, Izuku had been initially to busy smothering himself with his pillow to feel the small hand resting on his shoulder. He was so focused on trying to reign the churning fear and anxiety racing in his heart -the fire twisting and writhing like a stormy sea in his veins- that he barely registered his brother's body shuffling closer against him, his other hand brushing up and down his unmarked left arm.

It takes the shaking green-haired boy a full minute before he gathers the strength to lift his head up, blinking away tears and sniffing quietly. He catches Shouto's gaze, his grey and blue eyes bathed in silver moonlight that made the red of his hair and his scar pink. His skin took on the appearance of porcelaine, leaving him looking like something kind of ethereal fae.

Upon noticing that Izuku was looking at him, Shouto's hand on his shoulder patted him gently, if not awkwardly.

It was a strange attempt at comfort. Even a blind man could see that his older brother had no idea what he was doing, but the gesture -it warmed Izuku's heart better than his Quirk ever did.

He'd almost forgotten what it felt like to be cared for.

"You okay?" Shouto asks quietly, his voice heavy with sleep.

Izuku only answers with a hum. He rubs his cheeks against the pillow, drying away the tears before wiggling closer to his sibling, wanting to get closer to the protective warmth emanating from the older boy that made his fire curl pleasantly under his skin.

Shouto accepts his answer, the grip he had on his shirt tightening as he allows the green-haired boy into his personal bubble. There's no need for more words. Not here.

Izuku nuzzled into his brother's chest and closed his eyes. The fire coils within his ribs like a content snake basking in the sun, pulling him down into the darkness of sleep.

Things weren't fixed.

But they were getting better.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

It's only after two weeks pass by that his father finally talks to him.

(He hates the wait. Not knowing.)

He hears Endeavor long before he sees him, the loud heavy stomps a herald of his approach. Sitting alone in his room, Izuku understands how Fuyumi always knew where their father was, how she darted away like a ghost just as Endeavor entered the room.

Simply put, the earth seems to tremble under his feet at his father's approach.

The green-haired five year old is long out of his chair and brushing invisible dirt and wrinkles off his clothes by the time the doorknob starts to turn. Izuku fights the urge to curl up and hide, instead choosing to stand right and center.

The door opens, revealing his father. Enji Todoroki's expression is as dark and unreadable as ever. His piercing eyes settle upon Izuku -sharp and demanding, a turquoise that stands stark against the redness of his hair or the orange of his flames. Shouto's face hovers at the corners of Izuku's mind.

"Follow."

Then he turns and leaves.

Like that single word was enough to make Izuku drop everything and go with him.

(It was.)

His feet were moving before he even registered what he was doing. Truthfully, Izuku couldn't think of an alternative.

He follows his father outside, scrambling to catch up to the man. His short figure, dwarfed by the adult's massive body, lags behind as Izuku walks forcing him to make a funny quick trot that feels more nerve-wracking than it should be. Endeavor never looks back to see him stumbling thankfully, likely hearing him following and not caring beyond that. Izuku has to wonder how he could hear him following behind with the noise his footsteps made.

Endeavor leads him down the pebble path, away from the garden and the koi pond but neither does he head towards the gates. Instead, he walks towards the back of the property, somewhere Izuku hasn't really explored out apprehension of doing something he wasn't allowed to.

There's a small building there, separate from the main house. Built similarly to the Todoroki residence, it was slightly elevated off the ground. Equipped with a sliding door, small windows and what looked like a chimney. As his father stepped onto the veranda, Izuku craned his head up to take in the sight of the looming edifice.

A sharp sound startled him out of his revelry.

"Izuku." His father called to him sternly as he finished opening the door, moving to the right as if gesturing him to enter.

Not wanting to attract his ire, said green-haired boy whips his head around and all but stumbled in his rush to return to the looming adult's side. The small staircase seems massive for him as he climbs up onto the terrace and enter the building first. The door snaps shut loudly behind him, making him startle.

Endeavor brushes past him, walking further into the building.

There's only a medium-sized cubical room, just bigger than Izuku's bedroom. No other doors in sight; smooth dark wood flooring covers most of the ground. There was barely anything in the room. What drew Izuku's attention though was in the middle of the chamber; a large section of the floor dipped into the ground, wood giving away to stone that then led to a massive, dug-in pit.

A pile of strange dark lumps sat next to the pit, held in a dark metal basket almost as big as Izuku himself. For some reason it draws his attention, and he peers at the contents for the longest time before his gaze turns away.

Green eyes flick upward, catching the fresh air that peek from the hole atop of the room, right over the pit. There was a metal structure there, small and nearly unnoticeable by the way it blended with the wooden roof. Some kind of exit? What for?

He turns his attention to his father, who was waiting for him to explore the room with surprising patience. He stands next to the pit, arms at his side. Izuku sees the way his fingers twitch with coiled energy.

It reminds him of Kacchan's jittery hands when his palms exudes smoke and heat.

(His father's hands didn't just sizzle and pop, however. Izuku's right arm was evidence of such.)

The steely turquoise eyes narrow on him. He fights off a shiver.

"Izuku, come." Endeavor beckons, and the green haired answers the call, trotting obediently to stand in front of him. The stone floor of the pit clacks under his shoes, a sound that felt too loud for the suddenly too small room.

Despite the curiosity burning at his lips, Izuku holds his tongue. He fights the urge to look away from his father's piercing eyes.

Silence.

"Your Quirk," His father finally begins and hell would freeze over before that subject doesn't fail to make Izuku feel tense and on short-breath. "...works on a fuel requirement. Do you understand what that means?"

Izuku jerks his head rapidly, nodding. "Yes." He swallows, fighting back to fiddle with the edges of his shirt in the man's presence. That, he learned early on, was one way to get scolded. "I need to burn things to keep using my fire."

The words his father used were a bit confusing, but Izuku knew what he was referring to. He'd learned the nature of his Quirk the hard way.

And he wasn't the one living with the consequences of his lack of control.

"It's a stockpile Quirk in nature." Endeavor continues, unaware or perhaps uncaring to Izuku's quiet distress. "You hold a reserve of fuel within yourself. If there is none, you cannot use your Quirk without consequence."

There was no need for further explanation.

Izuku remembered all too well the feeling of choking on his own blood. Of his body failing him bit by bit, of the blanks in his memories growing, stealing his attention. The heavy coldness weighing him down, pressing his will into the dirt and squeezing his lungs until no air reached them.

(Sometimes, these sensations joined the koi in his nightmares.)

"How do you feel now?" Izuku blinks at the sudden question, staring up into sharp turquoise in bemusement.

Was his father asking him how he felt? That was _-oh wait,_ he realized with a sudden burst of clarity. _He means my Quirk._

"I feel full?" Izuku fights the urge to fidget again. Try as he might, he doesn't have Touya's way with words. There's much that he can't describe about his Quirk. It's an amalgamation of sensations and instincts and urges that he's too young to know the words for.

He has to wonder if he'll ever find the words to explain it.

(If anyone would sit down with him and listen, because clearly Touya had more important things to do to keep him from burning down the house.)

A grunt leaves his father, reminding him of his situation and dragging him away from his more than bitter thoughts on the eldest Todoroki sibling. "Good. Let's keep it that way."

 _Huh?_ Izuku watches him move away, confused.

Leaning over the massive basket by the pit, his father picks up one of the strange small spheres. "This is Binchō-tan." He offers it to Izuku, who jolts out of his daze and scurries forward to take it. It fits just barely in the palm of his hand. "Also known as white charcoal."

Izuku turns the charcoal in his hands, feeling the hard surface under his fingers. Despite its small size, it feels heavy and compact. It's pale. Greyer than the dark, crumbly little coals he remembered from back home. There's barely and sot marks on his skin as he touches it. Some part of him wants to crinkle his nose at that.

(He likes the ash.)

"We will keep your Quirk in check with this." His father holds up a larger piece, this one cylindrical. It looked more like a log than the tiny ball in the palm of Izuku's hand.

He hopes Endeavor wasn't going to make him pick it up. As optimistic as Izuku could be sometimes, even his small five year old self understood that there was no way he would be able to hold it. At least, not without toppling to the ground and hurting himself.

His father trucks on with his explanation, unbothered.

"Binchō-tan is very dense compared to other types of coals. As your Quirk has a set limit-" Izuku doesn't miss the way his father grimaces at that. He files that away for later. "-this is what you will burn to keep your reserves full. It will burn longer than anything else."

Izuku watches as he piles log after log into the pit. He stayed silent as Endeavor worked, not wanting to draw his ire. When the bottom of the pit is sufficiently stacked, the man turned back to him. His blue eyes were dark and commanding.

"Use your Quirk."

Izuku's heart stutters in his chest.

 _No_ hangs at the tip on his tongue, tiny and meek, threatening to escape through his lips. He debated, briefly, letting it through.

Izuku holds his father's gaze, uncertain. He flicks his eyes down to the prepared pile of coal.

It looked so tempting.

Breathing in deeply -shakily- a reluctant Izuku reaches out and _pulls_.

Thrown out of his body like a slingshot, his fire manifests in the middle of the pit. It rises up from the bed of coals with a cheerful roar, obsidian black and quicksilver nearly licking at the roof of the building.

Instantly, Izuku knows he overdid it.

(No matter how full he felt, it seemed that his Quirk was always looking for _more_.)

"Slower!" Endeavor yells at him sharply, a sudden burst of noise that has Izuku startling. "Calm your Quirk, boy. You will burn the entire building down!" There's heat running up his father's arms, long curling strands of orange and red that dig a pit in Izuku's twisting stomach.

There's no doubt that if Izuku didn't take action, he would smother his flames with his own.

A distant memory of the last time Endeavor had done that comes to mind. No, he couldn't have that; he didn't want to bear that pain again.

Izuku turns to his Quirk, squinting as he reaches for it, coaxing it to dim. To burn like a normal fire would. To not just swallow the materials around it at once like a greedy child.

Nearly skulking, the flames dims down to a more manageable blaze. Izuku peers into the pits, his lips twitching in a restrained grimace when he notes a good one third of the coals were gone.

A quick glance at his father tells him that Endeavor had indeed noticed that particular detail and given the tight pinch of his lips, he wasn't happy about it.

Oh, oh well.

Not like anything Izuku did ever pleased the man. He was starting to think that was an unreachable goal.

Dejected, the youngest Todoroki stares down at the burning coals with unseeing eyes, watching how his fire burns merely atop of the coals. The grey charcoal had turned white from the heat, and there were purple light within the cracks formed by Izuku's Quirk. It looked haunting.

Inviting.

With the silence stretching on, there was nothing else to focus on but the gentle sway of the fire. Izuku takes a step forward. Then another. The flames twisted in front of him enticingly.

(What was he doing.)

 _No,_ that part of him that sounded like Kacchan squawked. _Wait, don't do that, what are you doing you dumb fuck-_

Somehow, this trail of thought doesn't stop him from walking forward.

Coal crunches under his feet.

He flops down inside the fire, humming pleasantly as the black flames wrap around him in a mockery of a embrace. Fire coils like little velvet black serpents around his form, quicksilver strands flicking and dancing happily between his fingers. The coals creak under him, but they feel less hard than he'd thought they would.

The little Kacchan-voice in his head is screeching absurdities right about now, but Izuku couldn't find it in himself to care. It's like he was disconnected from himself, from the real world….

Izuku wiggles a bit experimentally, frowning as the fire curls tighter around him. His eyelids flutter, drowsiness weighing them down.

This was...comfortable.

Peaceful.

"What are you doing."

Izuku blinks, noting through a curtain of black flames a distinctively Endeavor-shaped lump.

Whoops _._

Strangely, he doesn't feel the panic mounting at the sight of his father clearly about to tear him a new one. Just-

Calm.

He feels like a cat stretched under sunlight, it's flesh and bones warmed up by the sun's rays. The heat permeates around him, sinking into his skin and leaving him catatonic. It reminds him of that night, when the sky was full of smoke and there was ash painting every inch of his skin. He couldn't remember his father's face then, too tired yet giddy by the release of his Quirk, but he guessed it was something similar to the expression he wore right now.

Guarded yet perplexed, his confusion mixing with the restless anger that like his Hellflame Quirk, seemed ever present on his face.

(Izuku had to wonder if Endeavor was ever not angry. If anger was the only emotion his father could process, or if he'd held that rage inside him for so long it became a intricate part of his being.)

"I like it." He warbles after a while. "It makes me feel good. Happy." He furrows his brows. "Full."

His father stares. "Full." He repeats after Izuku bluntly.

"Yes," The youngest Todoroki pauses upon realizing just how aloof and disrespectfully he was addressing the adult. "...sir."

There's a moment where his father just stares, and Izuku nervously thinks the man was going to reach him and yank him out from the pit by his neck. It wouldn't exactly surprise him. Endeavor wasn't exactly known for being gentle when he didn't get his way and behind doors, he was even worse.

But the blow never came. The burst of burning bright flames didn't, either. No enraged shouting echoed through the room, threatening to pierce Izuku's eardrums.

Instead, he does the last thing Izuku was expecting. He walks out of the room.

"We're done here." His father throws over his shoulder, not even looking at his bewildered offspring. "Training is at 5, _don't_ be late."

Izuku stares as the door slams closed behind his father's hulking figure.

Slowly, his muscles unwound and he relaxes, melting into the coals.

He's alone.

(For once, he doesn't mind.)

There's a certain peace of mind that rises up within him by laying here, nestled amongst his flames. A disconnect between him and the real world, for none could touch him as long as he remaining cloaked within his Quirk. Izuku didn't think he could move from the bed of coals, not any time soon.

His eyelids flutter, the call to sleep too strong for the young child to ignore. He could get used to this.

He falls asleep dreaming of green eyes and a soft, familiar voice singing him to sleep.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

When he wakes up, there's a pile of clean clothes next to the pit.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

He goes to the small building every few days now.

His father doesn't bring it up again, but Izuku catches the dark, unpleasant look in his eyes when they met again. Training that day was especially harrowing, but he doesn't get a mouthful for disregarding his father and taking a nap right in front of him instead of hanging to his every word like Endeavor expected him to.

In and all, it was honestly was a first.

Izuku couldn't remember one time the man didn't scold him if he had the opportunity.

At least his father's gift -was it even a gift if he needed it to stay alive?- kept him occupied. Nobody came to the building at the back of the property but him, so it quickly became something akin to the green haired boy's second bedroom.

The firepit was essentially a second bed. If he was given the possibility, Izuku knew he would spend the entirety of his day curled up amongst the heated lumps of coal, clothed in nothing but his pajamas and the ash that came off from the charcoal burning. With a bit of a struggle given his size, he would add new coals to the mount when the logs are consumed.

Surprisingly, this took several hours of sitting in the fire pit to achieve once he learned how to regulate the temperature of his Quirk a bit better.

His father had been telling the truth when he said they would work.

Izuku remembers playing with the Bakugo's fireplace one time; Kacchan and him had turned it into a game to toss things in while the parents weren't looking. Pens, paper, small branches, etc. It ultimately ended badly and they were banned from ever going near the fireplace again after Katsuki tossed a entire bowl of marinated meat in on a dare and subsequently almost set the living room ablaze, himself included though honestly, his mother yelled more about the charred carpet than about her son's safety.

How the blond managed to take the pork without Aunt Mitsuki knowing let alone reach the top of the kitchen counter was a mystery Izuku could not figure out for the life of him. Or why it burned so quickly.

Regardless, now he had a furnace several times bigger than Aunt Mitsuki's prized fireplace to work with. His very own little fire-house, Izuku names in his mind though he never dares say it out loud because even _he_ can recognize how strange and childish it sounds.

That's another thing he learned here.

How to hold his tongue.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Half a month after the second incident, Izuku looks out his bedroom window and sees the gardener tending to the koi.

The youngest Todoroki moves without thinking.

He should be working, should be doing his homework -yet all of this is forgotten, banished at the back of his mind as something more urgent takes over him. Izuku doesn't register what he's doing until he pushes the entrance door open and walks out into open air yet even then, he can't stop himself even if he wanted to. A mild breeze sweeps over him, ruffling his hair and making his eyes wet.

The green haired boy heads for the garden, the new pebbles creaking under his feet with each step. Doubt nips at his heels, fear of what would happen if his father found out he was skipping his homework session, but Izuku pushes through it.

(He was starting to get sick of being scared.)

It doesn't take long for him to reach the pond's shores. Izuku skitters to a stop, breathing hard as he takes in the sights. There's a black bag full of weed propped against the new tree, a rake left next to it along with a bucket.

A figure kneels by the shoreline, gently feeding the excited fish from a plastic bag. It's not the first time he sees the man, but it's the first time Izuku sees him up close.

He takes him in, curiously peering out from the bushes at this stranger. The gardener's hair was a ghostly white peppered with silver-grey and his eyes, a light blue not unlike a cloudy sky. His skin was dark, nearly brown from the sun's rays and reddened around his shoulders from exposure. Deep wrinkles carved his face, illustrating a long life spent outside working in the field. A large wide hat sits atop of his head, shieling his face from the sunlight.

He's fascinating to look at. Like the heroes of old when they reach retirement, and their bodies are patchwork of scars from ancient battles. Izuku's not here to just watch him, though, so he steps out from his hiding spot.

Nervousness coils deep within his belly, but he keeps moving.

He's tired of being hesitant., of second-guessing himself.

(Tired of being afraid.)

Alerted by the noise of the rustling bushes the man pauses, a handful of food held loosely in a large, worn hand. His gaze turns away from the koi and meet Izuku's green eyes. The man blinks, staring down at him like he was seeing some kind of ghost emerging from the trees.

There's silence as they stare at each other.

Izuku swallows.

"Can I feed them?" He asks, slightly winded.

He expects to be ignored, like the kitchen lady.

Or a polite dismissal, like the cleaners.

Instead, the man wordlessly beckons him forward.

They don't talk as the elder shows him how to feed the fish. Izuku's unsure why the man doesn't speak to him. Maybe he fears Endeavor catching him talking to his youngest. Maybe he's not allowed to talk to Izuku outright. Nevertheless, they manage to communicate just fine with gentle gestures and pointing fingers.

There's a smile on the old man's face, twisting his old thin lips upwards. It makes the wrinkles etched on his ancient skin stand out more.

Izuku can't help but share his grin as he throws his first few pellets into the water.

He smiles as the fish nip at his fingers when he dips them slightly into the pond, looking for the little food pellets. They're not as slimy as those in his nightmares _-there's no blood on their scales-_ and they felt different than the ghostly creatures haunting his dreams as they push against his hand, whiskers catching on his skin.

More solid, more there.

Real.

Izuku smiles.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

He watches as his brother hits the mat again, a stifled grunt leaving the older Todoroki as his back impacts against the hard floor of the training room. Their father stands over Shouto, arms crossed, expression set and dark. His eyes blaze with sharp focus as he watches his second youngest try to regain his bearings.

There's no wince of sympathy from Izuku at this. He'd learned to stop making such expression after the first few training session with his father and his sibling. It was one thing hearing them training, hearing the impact of flesh and the hiss of ice and the roar of fire, but it was another seeing his older brother curled up on the floor, temporarily winded.

Shouto doesn't stay down for long.

There's a brief lull in the fighting as Shouto stumbles to his feet, the twitch of his lips and narrowing on his eyes showing how he was holding back a grimace. He's shaking slightly, making his movements jittery until he takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders.

Reinvigorated, the dual-haired boy throws himself back into the fray at the man four times his size.

There's a certain viciousness in the way he fights, Izuku denotes detachedly from the sidelines. It's not desperate, it's not burning with rage like Kacchan's when the kids in higher grades tried to pick on him. Izuku remembers the times he hid behind trees, safe away from the fighting, and watched Kacchan dispatch the older boys, his Explosion Quirk more than enough to send them packing -though nearly always ended up with some sort of scrape or bruise, as he didn't have the training or the Quirk to stay long range.

Lips bloody and nose crooked, the blond would make a terrible smile at his downed opponents and bare his teeth like a mad animal.

Every time, he fought like he had something to prove.

A small part of Izuku always envied for it.

Kacchan was strong and unrelenting. It was just another undeniable fact of life.

Despite having that in common, Shouto is the opposite of Kacchan in every other aspect. His anger is repressed, tucked underneath sharp kicks and strong punches. Channelled, like he's learned that lashing out mindlessly would not get him any closer to reaching his goal. He fights like he has something to prove too but instead of doing it out of pride, there is something tucked under his skin that is angry with the world and wants to be let _out_.

Wants to break something.

Wants to express itself, to scream at those who ignored it for so long.

The thought makes Izuku's heart clench.

(How much was bottled up under that scar?)

His hand unconsciously raises up and touches his chest, right over where the obsidian fire is tucked within a bed of bone, organs and flesh. His eyes flutter, remembering the sensation of _letting go_ that had overwhelmed him with relief a month prior, when his father had dragged him outside after he nearly-

(He hoped Shouto wouldn't let go of himself the same way he did.)

Almost as if he was sensing him getting off track, Endeavor's head whips around, sharp turquoise connecting with Izuku's green. The boy jolts and looks down, shoulders hunching as he bends a bit forward, resuming his push ups.

The first week his father started him on physical training, Izuku thought he was going to die.

His weak, young body just wasn't used to this amount of exercise. He was just as flexible as any five year old, but the stretches Endeavor made him do pushed him to his limits. Atop of his recent illness, the first few nights after this type of training began he'd gone to bed in near tears.

Izuku works through this, channeling his need to see things through and done so he could leave into each exercise. His muscles ache for him to stop, but the green haired child refuses to.

He resumes the routine quietly while Shouto fights tooth and nail against an adult professional hero. The sound of his small body hitting the floor continue to pierce through the air as Izuku continues exercising a body that wasn't quite ready yet for the level of strain it was being put through.

An hour passes before Endeavor is satisfied enough to let Shouto go.

His brother limps out of the room, holding his left arm against his chest. There's a furrow in his brows, one Izuku is intimately aware of. It's the face Shouto makes when he's in pain, but he's too proud to admit it. Likely, he would be black and blue by the time he went to sleep tonight.

Their eyes met as Shouto passed by him. A silent conversation just through their gaze.

 _Good luck. Be safe._

Izuku nods imperceptibly at him. He only looks away from his older brother when the door slides shut behind Shouto's tiny back.

The itch to fidget rises up again, but he quells it and the nervousness spreading through his body. With Shouto out of the room, it only meant one thing.

It was time for Izuku to start practicing his Quirk.

"Stay here." Endeavor tells him flatly before going for the sliding door connecting this dojo to the second training room. Izuku sits quietly on the floor as he hears the hulking man shuffling around.

When his father returns, he's holding a small case.

Green eyes follow the strange little wooden contraption with muted interest. Izuku's seen it before. It was in the practice chest in the other room. He remembered seeing it when Hiroi-sensei made him fetch-

He slides his eyes shut.

Takes a deep breath.

Exhales abruptly.

By the time he regained his bearings, Endeavor was sitting down in front of him and setting the now open case to his side.

"This time will be different, child." The pro-hero utters as he picks one of the items inside and gives it to Izuku.

It's a ball, similar to the smaller charcoal spheres Izuku uses with the firepit to stock on fuel. Confused, he slides a digit over the surface. Wait. Not charcoal.

Wood?

Green eyes peer up at stormy turquoise inquisitively.

"Temperature control." His father states bluntly as if it was enough of a explanation. Izuku nods along instead of speaking up, silently waiting for his instructions. "First, let us find out what you can and cannot burn." With a massive finger, Endeavor points at the object the green haired child was holding. "Burn it to ashes. As fast as you can."

Izuku falters at the realization of what his father was expecting of him.

Of course. He'd done the candle exercise to the point he could light his fire on top of the candles with his eyes closed. He didn't need to work on that anymore, at least for now. He had….what was the word? Oh right. Spatial awareness. He had enough spatial awareness to not miss his targets.

This left him with the next step in his education. Regulating the temperature of his Quirk.

 _Like with the fuel house_ , Izuku thinks somberly as he remembered nearly setting fire to the ceiling when all he was aiming at was the floor of the fire pit. _I have good control of my Quirk's activation, I know about the reserve aspect of it; I just can't control how hot it is yet._

Alright, this was easy. Burning things to the ground was basically all Izuku could do at this point; he could do this with little effort.

Resolve swelled within him as he focused on the little wooden sphere resting in the palm of his hand. With his Quirk's reserves sufficiently charged, it was incredibly easy for Izuku to call upon his fire.

Heat coiled within his chest before spreading, reaching up his shoulder and running down the arm's veins almost languidly. Velvet black swirled around his hand, small and contained.

Izuku looked down at his hand, the tiniest downward twitch of his lips betraying his unease when the wood ball is reduced to a pile of ash.

He doesn't have long to contemplate this strange feeling, for Endeavor dumps another sphere into his hand. Izuku recognize the smooth coldness and clearness of the material immediately. _Glass._

It takes but a twitch of his palm before there's another small gust of ash slipping between his fingers.

Silence. There's no barked order or compliment -not that Izuku's expecting to hear the second one, he's been here long enough to know it was a pipe dream- but the lack of reaction from Endeavor had him glancing up expectantly at his father. His expression was guarded, though Izuku could detect some frustration in those cold turquoise eyes.

 _He talks more when he trains Shouto._ Izuku takes the diplomatic option and keeps his mouth shut.

The next sphere that is handed over to the young boy is a pale white and dull, reminding him of an eggshell. "Calcium silicate." His father explains bluntly.

Izuku doesn't recognize the name. A type of stone, maybe? He'll look it up later.

It doesn't matter in the end, though. A second of exposure to his Quirk and it all burns and falls apart all the same. There's barely any smoke.

The next one is dry and hard at touch, heavy with a grainy grey texture. It's rough and unyielding against Izuku's pale skin. Familiar.

"Concrete."

Right. Izuku takes a moment to admire the item before it's turned into ash with a puff of black fire.

Half a hour passes like this. His father hands him a material, tells him what it is, and immediately after Izuku burns them to cinders. His lower half particularly his leg joints aches from sitting for so long. Izuku wants to get up, stretch, wants to fidget, anything, but he holds it in and pushes through the discomfort from a mixture of stubborness and apprehension to what his father would do if he showed he was distracted.

It doesn't help that his father was getting increasingly restless at the fact that apparently, there was nothing Izuku's Quirk couldn't instantly reduce to ashes.

 _Broken indeed,_ Izuku thinks flatly as he watches a ball of fiberglass dissolve beneath onyx flames.

He thinks he can hear Kacchan laughing in some distant corner of his head.

The sphere of what apparently was steel? It turns into melty, orange pudding before crumbling to ash as well. Izuku lets the particles fall between his fingers before looking up at his father again.

His father's hands were clenched into fists, and the fire on his face flared every now and then, betraying his inner turmoil. In a fit of anger, he reaches for the last ball at the back of the pile inside the case and offers it to him. He moved his hand too quickly towards Izuku, who couldn't stop the flinch.

Endeavor seems to ignore his falter completely. Izuku takes the sphere in one hand. It's a silver-grey color, the shine on its surface betraying the metallic nature of the object.

"This is tungsten." His father says sharply, letting his arm drop and staring down at his youngest with narrowed eyes. "It's highly resistant to heat. See if you can warm it up-"

Izuku offers up the scattered bits of ash.

For a moment his father simply stares. Uncharacteristically silent, he looks down at the tiny, sad little lump of ash that lays at the bottom of Izuku's hand, held up to him in offering. It crumbles between the child's fingers and drips on the wooden floor.

Izuku tries not to fidget. He knows Endeavor hates that tic and never passed an opportunity to chastise him for his bad manners, but at the same time he can't help it. Not with the loud, stretching silence hovering over the two of them.

"...is there any changes with your Quirk?" His father finally says after a long stretch of silence, his voice unexpectedly subdued.

Izuku blinks. "I...I do feel more tired. Is that normal?"

"Must be the effort of incinerating objects so quickly." His father mutters over his head. He's still staring, perhaps a bit increaduly, at the black spots on the dojo floor.

His second question goes unanswered. Izuku fights the urge to squint.

"Effort?"

There's a short grunt. "You spent energy to burn the spheres. Given that your Quirk needs to burn material to fuel itself-" There it was again, that slight twitch of his brows and the spastic twist of his flames. "...but you feel tired instead of rejuvenated, it means that you did not get anything in return of your investment."

 _Rejuvenated?_ Izuku tries not to squint as he scratches his head, trying to figure out the meaning behind the word. _As in, healed? Like Recovery Girl's Quirk?_ He glances at the ash on the floor. Or maybe he means feeling better, like after the incident with Shouto?

(His heart twists.)

Yeah.

Just like the incident with Shouto.

"Enough for today." His father, thankfully, had nothing more to add. Izuku watches as he gets up. Endeavor's shadow looms over him as the man turns away. "Tomorrow we will continue to practice controlling the temperature of your flames. Your Quirk is no good if it destroys everything it touches."

This time Izuku can't fight off the full body flinch.

His father, as blunt as he was, had a point.

A hero wouldn't be a hero if they killed every villain they went up against.

(He hates the fact he knew what burning human flesh smells like.)

Dejected, he looks down at the floor. The ground quakes under his feet as his father walks away, the vibration rapidly fading into still silence as the door opens and closes, leaving Izuku standing alone in the dojo.

Izuku's gaze trails over the entirety of the room, pausing briefly on the sliding door leading to the second training room. Then he looks down, there's a pile of dark grey ash on the matt. It's a stark contrast with the paleness of the floor.

Frustration swells up within him at the sight.

He stomps on the ashes, _hard_ , digging his left foot into the floor, grinding the ash into the material with his heel. When he lifts his shoe away, there's a black smudge on the tatamit matt. The cleaners would have a field day getting rid of it.

Feeling slightly better, Izuku walks out of the training room.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

He's not sure when and how exactly Shouto started joining him in his walks around the garden, but Izuku is not complaining.

He's too shy to ask why, exactly, the other boy was spending what little free time they shared walking down the pebble path and looking at the clouds. Or maybe he doesn't want to ask, for fear of driving the other child away. Despite how much Inko tried, Izuku had never been with other kids -the only other child he had interacted in a regular basis had been Kacchan and while Izuku was young, he was smart enough to understand that Katsuki was a unique case.

Having company in these outings was comforting, at any rate.

It was better than being left to his own thoughts.

Shouto might be a silent shadow at his side most often than not, prefering to watch instead of participating, but his mere presence was enough to give him some peace of mind. Besides, if Izuku cajoled him enough, he found that he could get Shouto to do whatever he wanted within reason.

Like now.

Izuku squatted down at the pond's shores, smiling at ripples spread over the surface of the small pond as the fish grew excited by his shadow. Shouto kneeled at his side, apprehensive but interested by the little creatures.

Gently, Izuku offered some of the food pellets to him and showed the older boy how to feed the fish. The gardener had showed him where they were kept, in a small shack tucked against one of the property's outer walls. "Here." He tells him, giving him a handful of the feed. "Don't move too quickly, 'cuz you'll scare them."

Shouto took the pellets. There's a pause as he looks down at the fish feed resting at the palm of his hand like it was some strange, otherworldly thing. "...thanks." The older boy finally says.

Izuku's heart flutters.

(Fire sways in a bed of bone and flesh, pulsing with warmth.)

In the first attempt, Shouto all but chucks the food at the fish like a baseball player throwing a ball. This time Izuku can't stop the giggle.

Shouto squints his eyes at him.

"Too fast." Izuku chortles through hiccuped laughs. "Here, just -do it slower. Gently. They get scared easy."

His brother looks at him, then back at the fish. He slowly nods and takes more food from Izuku. The next try goes a bit better.

Unsurprisingly, the koi didn't seem to mind Shouto's bruteness. Instead, they flapped their fins and flicked their tails against the water's surface, little mouths swallowing the food pellets greedily.

Their small whiskers tickled against Izuku's fingers when he dips them in the water.

He barely stifles a snicker.

Smiling, he glanced at Shouto. The dual-haired boy looked a bit wide-eyed as he dropped the last of his food onto the pond, his differently colored eyes tracking a particularly large utsuri koi. The animal's black and orange hide gleamed under the sunlight when it emerged half out of the water, pushed up by a bigger white koi in a frenzy to get the food.

They were going to get fat if Izuku kept this up. Endeavor probably wouldn't even notice given the fact Izuku had never seen him in the garden, but he hoped the gardener wouldn't mind.

Once their hands were emptied, the two boys stood up and continued their walk around the property in comfortable silence. Izuku kicks up some pebbles as the trees fall away and the path opened.

They're approaching the gates.

Still walking, Izuku closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens them again, he finds his brother staring at him with a contemplating expression.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah." Izuku manages to scrounge up a tiny smile. It's weak and unconvincing. "Just tired."

They fall back into silence. Shouto tilts his head, gaze drifting to his right arm. The intensity in his mismatched eyes was too much like Endeavor's to ignore. The familiarity of his turquoise eye only made things worse.

Izuku tries to not shiver.

Under the sunlight, the contrast between his pale skin and the even paler edges of the burn were evident. Izuku was just glad it wasn't hand-shaped -his struggling when Endeavor grabbed him had aggravated the wound enough to avoid that.

(He had to wonder what it would look like if his Quirk hadn't helped his recovery.)

Shouto doesn't press. Izuku's endlessly grateful for his brother's occasional tact.

They reach the curve of the path leading to the gates. With nothing to look at -cars rarely passed by the property, the two Todorokis are quick to move on, to Izuku's relief. The green haired boy didn't want to be so close to the gates if he could help it. The mere sight of them caused anxiety to brew in his belly, weighing him down as if he had rocks lodged in his stomach.

It's stupid, but a part of him believes that if he stayed in front of the entrance long enough, his mother would magically appear, still as wide-eyed and desperate as that day, crying out his name as she reached out to him through the bars of the gates-

He's unsure his heart could take another meeting.

Izuku's turning around with his brother when a strange metallic glint catches his eye, drawing his attention to the gates. There's something yellow on the lower bars, swaying side to side in the wind. It's a shade of bright, gaudy yellow that he can't mistake.

Izuku doesn't hesitate.

"Otouto?"

"-give me a sec." He calls back, forcing the loud pounding of his heart at the back of his mind and focusing on what had caught his attention. He kneels down at the bottom of the left gate and takes a closer look.

It's a necklace.

Hanging from a thin bronze chain sat a familiar yellow symbol.

Confused but interested, he untangles it from the metal bar it was wrapped around and holds it up. It glints under the sunlight. _Why would someone leave this here?_

 _It's..._ He fiddles with the symbol, running his fingers over the metal warmed up by the sun's rays. Wait. He recognizes the two hair bangs almost shaped like bunny ears, though that more of Inko's opinion than his own-

He lifts the chain up, noting the silver and black edges of the symbol. There's a slight smudge on the lower half of the V-shaped hair, and one of the bangs was chipped.

He knew this model.

Or rather, he knew _this_ particular necklace.

It was a old collectible made of cheap metal, put on shelves on the twentieth anniversary of All Might's debut. It had been done released at the same time one of the best All Might documentaries hit the cinema -and Izuku knew this because he'd gone to the movies with Inko to watch it.

And his mother had bought him a similar necklace when they passed by the cinema's gift shop.

Izuku gulps, turning the little necklace around. He blinked, noticing how his hands were shivering.

The smudge was from Kacchan, a scratch caused by a accidental explosion during a sleepover. Izuku remembered this small detail because he'd cried when he realized that Katsuki's Quirk had damaged some of his collectible. The blond had been completely unapologetic about it, though he'd acted softer the week following the event.

Footsteps echo behind him, reminded him of Shouto's presence.

"What's that?" His dual-haired brother asks over his shoulder, staring at the item Izuku was holding up intensely. There was no doubt he recognized the shape of the symbol as All Might's hair bangs. The Number One hero was just too popular not to be instantly recognizable.

"A gift." Izuku responds softly, lost in memories of another life as he runs his fingers over the little necklace. He pauses, swallowing. His throat felt tight and parched. "It's from home. I think it's...it's from my mom."

"She's not…?" Shouto trails off, glancing between him and the necklace. Izuku turned his head towards him. The grey in Shouto's right eye was almost silver.

 _Rei._

Just like Endeavor in his left eye, it seemed like the specter of Shouto's absent mother was resided in his right. Izuku had to wonder how he was able to stand looking at his reflection in the mirror.

(He knew he had trouble doing it.)

"I lived with her, before." Izuku explains, blinking slowly as he turns his eyes back to the necklace longingly. When he speaks next, it's forlorn. "Now I'm here."

"Why?"

Izuku merely raised a hand and let black fire sputter at his fingertips for a moment.

"Right." Shouto grunts. He lifts a finger and points at the necklace. Izuku couldn't help but hold the item tighter, like it would magically slip between his fingers and crumble away. "Why is that here, if father took you?"

Took.

What a strange but accurate word to use. Izuku had to chuckle, but it was dry and humorless.

"She came to see me. In secret." Izuku falters, memories he would rather forget welling up as he recalled the events of that day. "B-before I did the thing-" He waves at his head with a slightly shaking hand.

Shouto only nods, unexpectedly polite about the whole incident. "It didn't go well." He guessed.

"No." Izuku grimaced, letting his hands drop to his sides. The necklace was tightly clasped in a clenched fist. "I ran away from her." The green haired boy admits regretfully. He knew he had an excuse, but that didn't make it hurt any less.

Shoto blinked. "You did?"

He nodded slowly. "I..we couldn't see each other. There were things-" His breath hitched. Izuku's not aware that he's clutching his scared forearm tightly until he feels his nails dig into his skin, threatening to break through.

Izuku steals a glance at his brother. Shoto was looking away from him. His right hand was absently touching his own scar, the one on his face. At that moment Izuku couldn't help but feel a wave of shame go over him. Mothers were sensitive topics with his older sibling. He should have known better than to bring Inko up.

He should have grabbed the necklace and said nothing.

"Is it because of the garden?" Oh hey there went Shouto's tact again.

Izuku closes his eyes.

Inhales.

Exhales.

"Yeah, it's because of the garden."

Silence.

The sun bore down on Izuku's shoulders. He longer feels it's warmth.

They walk back to the house in silence.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

They're doing their homework together a day later when Shouto brings the necklace up.

"She used to try and get me to write."

Izuku pauses, pen hovering over his assignment. He turns his head to his brother, peering inquisitebly at the taller boy.

"Fuyumi." Shouto explains, not even looking up from his book. "She wanted me to write to...to my mom. I never wanted to do it." He reveals quietly.

"Why are you saying that?"

For an answer, Shouto drops his book, leans forward and pokes the necklace hanging from Izuku's neck from where it was hidden under his shirt. He never wears it outside of his room, and even then that was a rare occasion for fear of his father barging into his bedroom and seeing him with it. Izuku had no doubt the older man would burn it to cinders as easily as he could turn stone to ash.

"Oh." Izuku murmurs. He's not convinced though.

His mother's gift felt heavy around his neck as he spoke up:

"He might get mad." He murmurs, and there was no need to explicitly state who that person was. The green haired boy sits back, clutching the little gift through the fabric of his clothes. "You think it's a good idea?"

Shouto's scar shines pink under the sunlight filtering through the window. "What are you going to lose?"

Izuku remained quiet. He clenches his jaw. Mulls over his brother's words.

Well, that was as good of a reason as any.

The first version ends up smudged and with curled, sideways kanji. To Izuku's embarrassment, Shouto takes the note, reads it once, sets it aside and pushes a new piece of paper in front of his younger brother, whose fingers was more black than white from the charcoal.

Izuku blinks down at the stack, then looks at his sibling in confusion.

"Make a new one." Shouto instructs him flatly.

"Why?"

Different colored eyes blink at him slowly. "It's shit."

Izuku scrunches his nose at that, amusement mingling with his wounded pride at his brother's utter lack of manners. It really seemed like it came and went whenever it wished to -like a stray cat. He opens his mouth to rebuff the older boy's conclusion, but he can only sit there, skulking. Cheeks burning, he closes his mouth and looks down at the paper. Shakes his head.

 _He's not wrong._ It was too smudge and dirty to be passable. His father would likely burn it on sight before he could explain anything, much less convince him of this lunacy. No, it simply wouldn't do. He couldn't use this one.

There's a part of him that feels the heavy weight of shame at that mental admission, but he banishes it away. His letter while readable looked horrible. He couldn't use it.

Izuku takes a deep breath and picks up his pen once more.

This wasn't something to be ashamed of.

It just meant he had to do better.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Izuku steps into the fire.

Barefooted with only a pair of shorts on, his Quirk welcomes him with a purr, curling around him in a blanket of black and quicksilver flames. The charcoal creaks under his body.

It was so much more colorful now, healthier, and Izuku sinks into the bed of coals like it's the softest of mattresses.

He likes to come here when he needed to think. It was soothing, and helped ease the jumbled chaos in his head into a more manageable mess.

Unconsciously, he twists and turns on the coals, thoughts swirling in his mind like a stormy sea. Pros and cons danced in front of his eyes; fear and apprehension nipped at the back of his ears, remembering him of his faults. He has to shut his eyes and breathe, long and deep, to calm himself and think it through.

He'd never asked anything of Endeavor, but he knew what laid ahead if he decided to face the man would be a uphill battle. Nothing the pro-hero ever did was for his children's comfort. Convincing him of letting him talk to his poor sweet mother, even through a letter, was going to be a task in and of itself.

Izuku glares up at the ceiling. But wasn't Endeavor his father, though? Shouldn't he provide for him? Couldn't he at least give him this?

Izuku's thoughts shift to another man. Masaru, who opened his heart and his arms to him when he had no father to speak of. He could still remember being swung around by the man, Kacchan squeezed in right next to him in his father's strong arms. The warm laugh, the affectionate way he would rustle Kacchan's ash blond hair when the older boy would get too rowdy.

No. He couldn't think of that. It was wrong, because that was most certainly not what he was going to get with Endeavor. Not now, maybe not ever. Todoroki Enji had a powerful, bright Quirk but his heart was as cold as ice. He wore anger and frustration around him like a shawl, creating a barrier between himself and the world.

A illegitimate child like Izuku would never get through to him. His only worth was his broken mess of a Quirk.

It frustrated him, but this was the truth. It brought bitter tears to the corner of his eyes that his fire licked away, evaporated it into steam. Izuku closes his eyes and exhales somberly.

Still, could he deliver the letter?

Confront his father?

His right arm ached. The fire around him flickers, momentarily slipping out of his control before he reigns it in. Izuku's fingers dig into the coal beneath him, quicksilver white flames sparking around his nails. The charcoal crumbles further under his touch.

He had to do it.

He had to be brave.

 _Don't be a weakling,_ Katsuki's ghost murmurs in his ears. His voice is more distorted now, more faded, more like Shouto or Natsuo. The familiar fire was still there, thankfully, but it's different. Izuku wonders how long until he forgets what his childhood friend sounded like entirely, and the thought makes his heart squeeze.

This only adds fuel to the fire.

He has to send it.

There was no other alternative. He couldn't just ignore his first few years of his life, the people who had been at his side, reluctantly or not. He didn't want that. Izuku refused to discard that part of himself.

(He doesn't want to forget them.)

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

He waits until the end of the day, Saturday, to make his move. Weeks of observing the coming and going of the Todoroki family told him that this was the best moment to talk to his father.

While he'd never visited his father's office before, he knew where it was.

It takes him two minutes of standing in front of the heavy wooden door for him to muster up the strength to lift his hand and knock softly. It looked massive in front of him. A slightly hysterical part of Izuku feared it would pop out of its hinges and fall down atop of him.

Seconds trickle by where he stands in bated silence. Did his father hear him? Izuku internally fidgets, impatient but aware that he has to play it cool; banging on the door was one way of getting sent to his room to sleep early without dinner.

He didn't stay stewing in his fear for long.

"Enter." Echoed from beyond the door, his father's voice sounded distracted but still somehow coming off as intimidating as ever.

Izuku swallows. His dinner threatens to worm it's way up his throat as he gently pushes the door open.

Endeavor's office was vast and splendous. Dark wood flooring gave away to a burnished red carpet with a simple leather chair; said carpet ended at the feet of a massive, heavy wood desk that matched the coloring of the floors. Documents lay in neatly stacked piles on its surface, with a stray cup of tea off to the side, still steaming.

Right behind the desk sat Izuku's father. Endeavor was holding a piece of paper in one hand, likely having been reading when his youngest decided to knock. He was peering up at Izuku from behind the document, left brow raised questioningly at the interruption.

His turquoise eyes were dark and piercing as they scanned up and down Izuku's slightly hunched posture, resting briefly on the little letter clasped tightly in his fist before lifting to pin Izuku in place.

"Well?"

Briefly, just briefly, Izuku contemplates just chucking the letter at his father and running out the door. Then he reminds himself that that was the perfect way of ensuring his work would be incinerated by the man's Hellflame Quirk. So, not good.

Could still work as a backup plan.

"I was wondering," Izuku starts, his tongue barely working through the cement suddenly filling his mouth and making him silently choke. "-if I could contact my mom." The narrowing of Endeavor's eyes set his heart rate off like a terrified rabbit's. "N-not meet her -at least not _now-_ but I want to s-send her a letter-"

No no he wanted to say _I wish to_ that was more polite according to Shouto. Crap. This wasn't going well, and the realization only made him panic further. Waves of heat and cold ran up and down his spine.

He waves his tiny letter like a weapon in front of him. His father's eyes shift to look at it.

"I want to talk to her. I know you probably don't like it but please I wa _-wish_ to talk to her again so if you can please send her-"

"Stop."

Izuku chokes for a moment as his mouth snaps shut, almost without his consent.

He stares, wide-eyed, at his father. His blood thundered through his veins. His fire weighted heavy in his chest, expanding and pushing under his skin, pressing against his lungs and making each breath small and ragged. He feels lightheaded.

Silence draped itself over the room like a sluggish serpent. Izuku held his breath.

Until his father looked away -to his hand and the crisp little piece of paper he and Shouto had worked so hard on.

"You want-" He spoke slowly, like he was still processing Izuku's words. His voice was low and rumbling and not something he was likin. "-to send your mother... _letters_."

"Yes." Izuku was to shiver, but he fights it, instead stating boldly. "I want to send my mom letters. I want to talk to her. I need to talk to her." He shows the carefully wrapped letter to his father, who doesn't make move to take it. "Please."

Silence again.

His father peers down at him through narrowed eyes, expression thoughtful. Izuku kind of wants to know what he was thinking, but at the same time not. Todoroki Enji's head was in all likelihood not a nice place to be.

 _-please please please-_

His hands tremble at his side.

Responding to his stress, black sparks popped off around his wrists, threatening to turn his precious letter. Izuku gathers up his Quirk and pushes, shoving it back into the cage his ribs made in his chest.

(Occupied with keeping it in check, he doesn't notice the blue eyes pausing on the errant flickers of velvet black on his skin.)

"Fine."

Endeavor's voice pierces the silence, and Izuku's heart makes a weird, almost painful little twist up in his chest. He was actually agreeing? Izuku knew the chances were slim-

"This is what we are going to do." Endeavor sets his paper down and straightens in his seat, looking down at Izuku from behind the desk. The green haired boy's feet twitch with the urge to shy away from his gaze. "You're allowed to send your mother letters, and she can respond to them." Izuku's heart speeds up at this, threatening to burst out of his chest... "However,"

 _-then it drops-_

"...you will only meet her if I'm satisfied by your level of control over your Quirk. I can't have you killing a civilian."

Something wet tugs at the edge of his eyes, but Izuku manages to wrestle the familiar sensation back with a mixture of desperation and shame. Instead of bursting into tears or sniffing quietly, he bows politely instead, like Shouto told him to.

Those were logical terms.

"Understood?"

He bows deeper. "Yes, thank you father."

Endeavor nods dismissively, then extends a hand. "Give me the letter."

Izuku almost steps back at the sight of the reaching limb. He works through it though, and walks over to drop it into his father's awaiting hand obediently. It looked so small in Endeavor's grasp.

He watches as the pro-hero places it at the edge of his desk, then return to the paperwork he'd been reading through before Izuku came in to bother him. Just like that, Izuku was unimportant again.

It makes him feel apprehensive, how easily his father accepted his request.

(There had to be a catch, right?)

"Is that all?" The sudden low, disdainful tone makes Izuku's spine straighten on instinct.

"N-no." The nervous green-haired boy manages to stutter out, internally wincing at how weak his voice sounded. Nope. Not good. Better leave before he made a mess of things and got the deal with his father revoked. "Apologies." Izuku says politely, ducking his head.

He backs out of the room, his heart feeling too tight for him to expose his back to his father despite the fact he had returned to his work and thus, taken off his crushing attention from Izuku's shoulders. It's irrational, but Izuku went through with it.

His shoulders relax only once the door is closed and his father, out of sight. Izuku stands in the hallway quietly; then a low, heavy exhale leaves him, and it takes all of his strength to not sag against the door headfirst.

He did it.

He feels like he was deflating. Izuku's tiny heart beat like a hummingbird's wings in his chest. He'd done it. It was just. _Done._

All the energy he'd gathered for this meeting rushed out of him like a popped balloon. He wants to curl up in futon -no, the fire pit and just sleep.

For a few hours. Or days. Maybe forever.

Well, at least until tomorrow. Just fall flat in a bed of coals and spend the next few hours in blissful slumber.

Izuku goes through a mental list. His homework was done, so he didn't have to worry about it. Training had been done in the morning, so that was also out of the way. Dinner could be skipped in favor of rest.

Feeling slightly less winded, he turns around-

-and that brief sense of calm he'd managed to muster goes flying right back out the window at the sight of Touya standing there, leaning back against the wall with his hands tucked in his pockets. Startled green stared up at familiar impassive turquoise.

His brother's head was tilted to the side; a small, catlike smirk sat comfortably on his pale lips.

"Let's talk, firecracker."

* * *

 **This. Chapter.**

 **I don't know why, but it was a PAIN to write. I don't know why. Might be the fact it was supposed to be 20 pages and I ended up doing 38. Motherfucker I need to show restraint. Better planning, at the very least. Maybe a beta reader. Bah. I'm low on tea and coffee, I need to refuel.**

 **Also, blame Tokoyami for walking on the keyboard on three different instances while I left to go do stuff. I swear this bird has a deathwish. He dunked his head in my full coffee cup at one instance. I just made that cup .**

 **The next chapter's going to be smaller, with just a few scenes. I got some if not most written it out. The size is cuz it's the last one before a timeskip. Nope, we're not jumping to Yuuei yet. Gimme 2-3 chapters moar, I swear. Character development is important, yo.**

 **Izuku meeting back up with the spicy blond boi needs to have** _ **impact**_ **.**

 **And angst, since I'm apparently the angst master.**

* * *

 **Next chapter:**

 **The remaining Midoriya and the Bakugos enter the stage. Somewhat. Katsuki is not a happy pomeranian.**

 **Toshinori believed this galla was going to be a fairly straightforward affair, but one excitable boy latching on to his leg makes him think otherwise. Also, if that kid with the dual hair color could stop glaring at him, that would be nice- wait, these were Endeavor's kids? Oh. Oh dear.**


	7. Chapter 7

*** Sits down to write ***

 *** bird proceed to break one of my picture frames ***

 **This is my life.**

 **Wtf, this is 30+ pages. It was supposed to be 15, god damn. 13 152 words.**

 **Also also also, apparently why my jaw had been hurting mildly for the past two years-ish was because the jawbone kept popping out of its socket or at least trying to, so there's that. Doc mentioned something like surgery, so that's gonna be fun :/ I'm a bit scared but at the same time if they do it it'll be great, because I'm tired of opening my mouth and feeling one part of my jawbone decide to nope out of alignment.**

 **At least I got Tokoyami going for me. He likes to sit in the dark in the bathroom doing his best batman impression. Have you had a pigeon hiss at you in the dark? It's...something.**

 **Btw anyone interested in a Bakugo-centric fic that starts during the kidnapping arc? I've watched Punisher recently and let's just say the idea of a vigilante Bakugo has been floating in my head for a while…**

 **I got another with Bakugo having a secondary healing Quirk -which you know, makes him feel just wonderful when Izuku takes up the challenge of breaking every bone in his body before the year's end- which also has plenty of angst, but eh, let me know which one you guys want me to post first.**

 **Having multiple stories to work on at once helps me a lot, because it keeps me inspired :D**

* * *

He stares at Touya's back.

Uncertainty coils in his gut, bitter and heavy. Izuku is only distantly aware of how his eldest brother is leading him out of the house, his feet seemingly moving of their own accord, obediently trailing after the enigmatic redhead like a duckling to a goose. There's cotton in his head, clouding his mind with static whites -and from within those clouds sharp, conflicting thoughts burst forth to swarm him. Thoughts he cannot ignore.

Why was he here?

Why now?

The longer her ponders on this, the more clouds swirl within his head, choking him out. There's just too much to think on, too much he wants to ask. After all this time, after all the time Izuku had waited, had asked -now does Touya show up? Izuku didn't keep track of time well, but it had been almost two months since they last saw each other, if not more. Too long.

Had he heard about what happened with Hiroi-sensei -and stood there and ignored Izuku until he nearly-

 _No._

Izuku wants to shake his head furiously as that particular ball of black, poisonous thoughts steps out of the shadows, making his throat tighten like there is something murky and rank lodged in his esophagus. Like vomit, but worse. The edge of his eyes sting and he has to blink the beginning of tears away.

His shoulders hunch, muscles locking up as to keep that vile mass in. To make things worse, one more question comes to mind.

 _Did he hear me talk to father?_

His steps falter, and like the complete mess he is he nearly trips over his own two feet as the clouds part and there's just _this_ question branded into his head, taking up all of the available space. Something cold and terrifying seeps into his blood, numbing his limbs. The distance between him and his eldest brother stretches like a widening gap, a trench that digs itself deeper with every passing second and each new poisonous question.

This cold soon turns into something too warm and uncomfortable that refuses to settle in Izuku's flesh. The flames hiss and splutter in his chest, aggravated, licking at his ribcage and making the air he lets out with each inhale feel too hot against his throat.

At that moment, Izuku wants to call out to Touya. To tell him to stop. He wants to dig his heels in and question the older boy, right here, right inside this house, right with their father just rooms away who would hear them through the thin walls.

This strange desire burns at the tip of Izuku's tongue -but he can't do it.

Because beyond his need to get answers, he didn't want to shout. He didn't want to give in to that sharp, gaping pit of restless ire in him, that festering wound that had grown deeper and deeper with each incident. He doesn't want to submit to the blistering, all consuming betrayal he feels at the sight of Touya finally here, several weeks too late for when he'd _needed_ his older brother.

Wasn't that what older siblings did?

Help each other?

The same could be said of fathers, but Todoroki Enji dodged that particular concept spectacularly.

Defeated, Izuku relents.

He doesn't give in, doesn't stomp his feet and jab his finger at the red headed boy (just like his father had done to him), doesn't cry and certainly doesn't screech loud enough to wake the neighbors -and thus bringing the wrath of their father upon them.

He doesn't want scream because he doesn't want to be like his father.

(The screaming makes him feel tired.)

But what should he do instead?

Shouto suddenly comes to mind, the memory of him watching their father through a fringe of white-red hair during training. Mismatched eyes glaring as he stews quietly, waiting for the opportunity to strike even though he had yet the strength to topple the man. That same quiet rage that made him get up after he'd been stricken down, over and over again.

For him, it was inspiring to see.

It was the same feeling he'd experienced when Kacchan picked fights with the older children at their school -though Izuku felt those emotions more when Shouto planted his feet and faced their behemoth of a father in the training room.

 _There's much to learn there,_ Izuku thinks, his steps picking up. The amalgamate of questions and demands continues to churn in his belly like a second fire, but Izuku stifles it and continues to follow his eldest brother. Yes, he could try Shouto's way.

He could wait; he shouldn't give into his anger. After all, the last time Izuku had done so, he'd nearly killed one of his siblings.

And heroes didn't do that, right?

Touya leads him out to the front door, to the dark porch their father and Fuyumi had come to greet Izuku in what felt like lifetimes ago. Izuku feels a twinge of chagrin at the thought. How long had it been?

Had to be months.

(A year, maybe?)

Naive to his youngest brother's internal turmoil -or just, perhaps, uncaring of it just like he seemed of everything else- Touya flops down on the porch, crossing his legs beneath him. He's looking out to the road leading to the doors.

The moon had already begun rising as a pale disk that hung in the horizon, unperturbed by clouds. Izuku watches, captivated, as the soft blue moonlight hits his brother's tall, lanky frame. His spiky, dark red hair that was identical to their father looks oddly purple under the moon's rays, almost black.

Out here, under the moon's rays, Izuku sees less of Endeavor in his appearance.

Touya tilts his head back, half-lidded blue eyes peering up at Izuku lazily. He lifts a hand, palm up, reaching for Izuku.

"Sit?" He asks.

Green eyes blink, perplexed at the question.

Touya's not commanding him to sit down next to him. He doesn't speak loudly, he doesn't loom into his personal space and make Izuku feel tiny like a ant about to be crushed by a boot. Rather, his voice is gentle but firm like warm beach sand, pliant under his weight; easily moulding to his steps. The eldest of the Todoroki children is not demanding Izuku at his side, not at all.

He's offering.

An open door Izuku could walk through, if only he wishes to. It's the most choice he'd had in months.

Somehow, that simple action soothes the ugly thing in Izuku's stomach. So, swallowing down all the ugly things he wanted to yell at the older boy, Izuku leans down and takes Touya's hand.

Surprises flashes through him as the redhead pulls him to his lap, letting Izuku curl up on his crossed legs. There's a bit of fumbling; he'd only ever done this with his mom, and her warm, soft body was a stark difference from the long legged teen with all of his sharp angles.

They don't just feel different. Touya smells of smoke, burnt things and a hint of spice Izuku can't quite put his finger on. It's a odd combination of smells that for any other person would be appaling; yet for all his worries, all of his apprehension and restlessness something inside the green haired child instinctively relaxes as he's engulfed by the older boy.

Maybe it was the warmth of the body against him. Warmer than Inko, nearing a warmth he would only ever associated with a nice chimney fire. Maybe it was the strange sense of safety that came to having strong arms wrap around him after having been denied of them for so long. He'd almost forgotten what it was like, to be held purely for the sake of it,

The obsidian flames swirls in his chest lazily, mollified. The only time he'd ever felt his Quirk react that way was when slept in his fire.

Touya's not a fire though and although he smelled like one, Izuku fought the instinctive urge to close his eyes and rest, succumbing to the exhaustion tugging at him after that draining conversation with his father. Like a lizard basking under the sun, heat drew him in. Not this time, though.

Not with the barely settled storm lying in wait within his body, burning for answers. Instead of giving in though, Izuku waited for the older boy to speak.

(Over the past few months, he learned that those who spoke first were often at a disadvantage.)

Unfortunately, Touya seemed to have learned this particular lesson as well. He acted perfectly content watching the waxing moon and listening to the faint sound of rippling leafs. Upon realizing this Izuku wants to speak up, but nervousness clogging his throat once more and the uncertainty swirling in his gut keeps him silent.

So, he watches.

Waits.

Feeling the weight of his stare, Touya's eyes finally flick down to meet his. Turquoise, just like their father -but unlike the fierce sweeping intensity Izuku had come to associate with Endeavor, Touya's eyes were softer, calmer. Settled. And yet, Izuku could see the sharpness lurking in the corners, waiting patiently for the moment to strike, just like a cat sitting by the pond's shores waiting for a curious fish to stray too close.

He still doesn't say anything, but Izuku is left somewhat satisfied with grabbing his attention without calling out for him. Something tells him that it's the most he will get. The younger boy breathes out softly and speaks:

"You left." The words come out more accusing than he'd expected them to -though Izuku doesn't feel bad about it. Not when memories he tried so hard burying rise up from the back of his mind. "I was scared." The green haired boy admits quietly.

At first, he receives only a slow blink as a response. Izuku is once more reminded of a cat.

Or Shouto.

"A little fear never hurt anyone." His eldest brother replies simply in response.

 _Yes, yes it does,_ Izuku thinks, remembering Shouto's terrified expression when he nearly burned his brother's head off. Of a Quirk that was ravenous and hungry and burned everything he held when he was too nervous, too tense. _Fear leads to many bad things._

There's something else in Touya's tone, though -the faintest off feeling Izuku had ever experienced. It takes root in his mind, digging through the layer of comfort Touya's close proximity offered.

This gives him courage to say what had been nagging him since their last meeting.

"You knew." Izuku's gaze picks the slightest movement coming from the pond, making him look away from Touya. The moonlit surface of the water ripples as a koi slaps its tail. There's a quiet, near soundless splash that breaks through the silence, only to fade away. "About my fire. You fixed me, last time. You knew something-" Unconsciously, his fingers curl tightly against the helm of his shirt. "...something would happen."

-smoke and screams and bloody stumps and why-

The silence stretches.

Touya taps his own chin delicately, expression thoughtful as he looks out the garden. "I had a hunch." He finally answers after a moment of silence. Izuku fights back a frown. Was this was they called evading? "Quirks are fickle things, but you proved me right in the end."

He doesn't like the sound of that.

"About what?" Izuku mutters. He feels his older brother shifting around him. The left arm wound around him lifts up in front of the green haired boy, painted silver under the moonlight. Izuku can't ignore the way scars and bruises pattern the milky skin. The moon only highlights them.

 _Woosh._ A snap of deft fingers and Touya's hand is alight with gently swaying blue flames.

Something inside Izuku's mind clicks in place.

"Your fire." He murmurs in a low tone, not wanting to shatter this meek semblance of peace that hung precariously over the balcony. "It draws from you too, doesn't it?" Izuku says, just a tiny bit more excited at this newfound kinship with his most evasive sibling. Because it explained so many things.

But if he knew, if they were _similar_ , then why...why leave?

"Clever little firecracker." Touya murmurs, chest heaving a sigh behind Izuku, who can barely divert his attention back to him. "Yes, it takes." Shorter. More somber. Izuku doesn't miss the way his eyes roves over the faint scars pilling up on the skin of his arm. He had to wonder how many times the older boy had been burned to produce such damage. "Fire and ice doesn't mix well. The results vary wildly. Some are less fortunate. I got some things from my father -and some from Rei. I got a bad draw."

Izuku barely fights back a shudder at those last few worths, forced out in the tiniest, most restrained hiss he'd ever heard. It's the most emotion he'd heard from Touya -and he's not sure what to think.

 _Less fortunate._ Hesitantly, the youngest Todoroki trails his fingers over the ruined skin of the elder's left arm, running his digits over the path the veins made under flesh.

Is this how it went every time Touya his Quirk? Did he have a set limit, like Izuku?

(Could his older brother feed it like he could, or did it crave only the flesh and blood of it's owner?)

"Does it hurt?"

Another chuckle. Something dark flickers in Touya's mind. Sorrow? He hates the fact he doesn't know.

"You get used to it."

Izuku swallows with difficulty, his throat feeling strangely tight. It's not reassuring. He looks back at the flames licking at his eldest brother's hand. Here, yet again under the moonlight but free of his Quirk sickness, Izuku could see everything. The way Touya's skin was coarse and thick, pale skin greyed in certain spots. Some parts were even beginning to turn purple from repeated abuse.

His scarred arm ached at the sight.

He doesn't realize he's holding into the limb his father had burned until he feels the uncomfortable warmth from his Quirk writhing under his flesh against his skin. Hesitant, he whispers to his brother lowly, as if he is afraid to be overheard. "Will this happen to me?"

"Worried, firecracker?"

Izuku nods shakily in response.

How couldn't he? _That_ night surges up again in his mind, the blind terror he felt as Endeavor dragged him out of the house. The pain of his burnt arm.

He couldn't even imagine living through that agony again. He couldn't even bear the thought of being in such pain, constantly.

"Don't be. We are not the same." Touya tells him, once more speaking with the characteristic gentle detachment of his. "Your mother and Endeavor's Quirks combined quite beautifully. As for me, fire and ice….just doesn't work." He snorts, closing his hand and letting the flames die in his palm. "Really, of all people Rei was the worst partner he could have picked. You're luckier."

Mesmerized, Izuku follows the embers with his eyes as they float up, carried away in the wind.

Then he registers what his older brother is saying, and frowns as he craned his neck up to look at him.

"Picked?"

Touya doesn't answer for the longest time, leaving Izuku to mulled over such a odd word used to describe a joining.

Wasn't marriage a big event? A celebration, like in television? He remembered Auntie Mitsuki and Masaru, how they worked so well together. The way they moved as one around the kitchen the times he stayed with them for a sleepover, balancing Kacchan's prideful fury, Izuku's excitement, talking with Inko and somehow managing to make a meal at the same time that doesn't taste like sewage.

For all their screaming and shouting, they moved together like a well oiled machine.

It was fascinating to watch.

While it was boring to hear, Mitsuki always talking about how she met Masaru and how she pursued him until he agreed to a date. Masaru had finally chosen to give her a chance, it was something he's once told Izuku he didn't regret.

(Though that faith occasionally wavered. Namely, when Kacchan set a new piece of furniture on fire.)

By the way Touya was talking, something told Izuku that this wasn't the case between Rei and Endeavor. The green haired boy really didn't see a man as tall and imposing as his father courting this faceless woman that was so dear to Shouto.

But picked.

Picked.

There was just something _wrong_ with that word, in that particular sentence. Shouto's face suddenly flash in front of his mind; his blank, inexpressive face. The detached darkness lurking in those mismatched eyes as he answers Izuku's question on Touya. _I've never met him._

(How many things were _wrong_ with this family?)

"Why-" The words clog his throat. Izuku pauses, swallowing. "Why don't you talk to Shouto?"

Touya's expression sours and immediately Izuku knows he stepped on something he shouldn't have.

But then again, how can someone not like their own flesh and blood?

Endeavor's face then tugs at the edge of his mind and Izuku acquiesces. He'd only had Inko for most of his life. Maybe someone loathing a family member to the point of never seeing them, ever, was normal. Or maybe it was this fucked up family he had landed in.

With that thought, his mouth opens and he lets the words flow:

"Why me?" He asks, though he knows the answer now. Or at least part of it. Izuku is young, this boy is still virtually a stranger to him, but he already knows that pulling answers out of the other Todoroki was nearly impossible. "You don't t-talk to any of them. Not Fuyumi. Not Shouto. Not Natsuo." _Who misses you."_ You barely live here." He takes a deep breath. "But you came back for _me_."

 _The sibling you barely know._ Izuku thinks but doesn't say.

"Why you?" Touya reflects, turning his gaze to the sky. The stars reflected in his eyes. "Didn't I answer this question?"

 _Stop dodging._ It burns at the tip of Izuku's tongue, but he holds it. He really doesn't like this kind of talk. It makes his head hurt with how much Touya's words twist and turn like a koi swimming around him, weaving out of his grasp as he reaches to take hold of the slimy fish.

"No, you didn't."

"I see."

Silence.

Now Izuku really wants to fidget.

"It's because we are not that different." Touya suddenly speaks up. The green haired boy in his arms blinks and stares at him. Though Touya's smirk is fond, there is something wrong in his eyes. The sharpness is front and center now, promising something Izuku didn't quite like. And yet, he's drawn in like a fish on a hook -or in this case, a fish caught in a cat's claws.

"Little defective monsters, running around like we belong here." Touya tells him too gently for the cruel words coming out of his mouth. Izuku stays quiet at this, shocked still by the brutality disguised as sweetness. "He's only tolerating you for now, because you still are useful -and that's going to last as long as you don't cause more trouble than you're worth."

There was something in those turquoise eyes beyond the warmth, something Izuku couldn't grasp but knew intimately-

 _-Endeavor's snarl as he towers over him-_

 _-Shoto's burning gaze as he shoulders past Izuku-_

Oh.

Maybe their eyes weren't that different after all.

It takes all of the willpower he had available for Izuku to remind his lungs to work again. As if sensing his youngest brother's growing unease, Touya pulls his gaze away.

"It's just something you should think about," He pauses, head tilting. There's a smile on his face, soft yet too jagged to be just gentle. A contradiction. It's no longer just mysterious ; that edge is at the forefront, pressing against Izuku's jugular. "...firecracker."

"Why?" Izuku licks his suddenly too dry lips. "...why should I do that?" _And why would you say those horrible things?_

Father couldn't really throw him away, could he? Make him disappear in some deep dark hole, like Rei? Would he?

(It's terrifying, that he can't muster an answer right away. It sits in his stomach like rotting food.)

Touya stares down at him with eyes that were too old for a boy his age. The glimmer was all gone, and there was only the darkness he saw previously spreading through his gaze, creating goosebumps on Izuku's skin.

Then the next few words he utters sends Izuku's world tilting on its axis.

"Have you heard of Quirk Marriages?"

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Somehow, it's everything he feared, but more.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Hours later Izuku stumbles into his room, heart pumping in his ears and limbs shaking. He pushes the door closed behind him, and not for the first time, he wishes there was a lock on it.

His legs shake pathetically underneath him. They barely hold long enough for him to reach his bed before they buckle and send Izuku crumbling into the futon. He doesn't even try to soften the fall.

Trembling hands clutch his chest, gripping at the fabric hard. Izuku smells smoke, but he can't really acknowledge it over the furious beating of his heart. It thunders inside his ribcage like a second flame, each beat feeling more like a punch than something meant to keep him alive.

Then he hears it again.

Touya's voice, small and insidious against his ears:

' _Have you heard of Quirk Marriages?'_

A voice carrying secret -a chain that locked shut around one of his ankles and drags him down into the darkest pits of the ocean.

Izuku whimpers.

That secret wasn't the only thing his oldest brother told him.

No, far from it. He wishes it had been the only thing his brother told him. In brief words, Touya had spoken of family, the start of something new, -of blue flames that sparked on clear skin and joyous laughter and a kitchen constantly filled with strange and interesting aromas. Of a father that while distant, was a _father_.

Then Touya hit the age of six, and things gradually changed. As Touya grew into his Quirk, the burns started appearing. Proof of a mismatched, broken Quirk that demanded too much of its user.

A useless Quirk.

Touya had continued on, telling Izuku of broken dreams and pain and shattered families and Fuyumi and Natsuo until it all culminated in _Shouto_ , the chimera child with split hair and dual eyes, a brand of the Quirk to come.

 _It must be why Touya never stayed here long,_ Izuku thinks, somber, as he fights the tears. How could he ever stand to be around the dead, rotting corpse of a family? A shadow of what he once had? It would be the biggest slap in the face.

No.

Izuku was certain he wouldn't be able to stay sane either.

(Nor so calm.

Then again, he'd just seen how much of an act that was.)

He himself barely was, as it stands. Because for all the steps forward he's undertaken the nightmares are still there, lurking, waiting in the shadows. Eager to tear him from the shaky, barely lit pedestal Izuku had managed to climb on. Drag him back into the darkness with familiar, disembodied arms.

Was, was this why his father brought him here? To serve as another tool to further his quest to surpass All Might?

Was this why he was born?

Izuku freezes.

Was that why Endeavor had him? Inko said that babies were the result of two adults loving each other very much but somehow, Izuku found himself doubting that severely. He couldn't picture his mother, soft and warm and so very loving, standing next to his father.

Endeavor -who was stiff and strict and scary but was still, _somehow_ , was irrevocably his father, his image slotting itself clumsily in the empty hole in his life that Izuku hadn't been aware of he possessed.

The man Touya spoke about...

It was hard to reconcile with the man who had carried him out of the wreckage his Quirk had caused. It just didn't fit -but at the same time, it did. It explained everything else. Why he was training Shouto so hard, why he was running both of them ragged and why Natsuo and Fuyumi were but bystanders to this trainwreck.

It explained the quiet house, devoid of life even with four children living within it.

Desperate, Izuku's eyes sweep over the room, landing on a smudge of gold, blue and red sitting on his small desk. He crawls over and picks up the All Might toy; staring at it, unsure what to think.

Touya was nice. He'd helped him. He'd kept him from getting sick, from dying of his own Quirk. He'd done what older brothers did and protected Izuku.

 _And yet-_

The toy smokes in his grasp, the smell of cheap burning plastic assaulting his nose before he could even blink. For a moment he stares disbelieving lay at his prized toy, destroyed by his own two hands.

Fire had turned the cheap yellow paint a dark, maroon colour whose texture felt warm and bubbly under his fingers. all Might's shining, inspiring smile was twisted beyond recognition, the Number One hero's head having turned into little more than a misshapen lump of bubbling plastic. Even the two tufts of hair were gone, melted into the top of the skull.

Izuku fights the lump growing in his throat as he lifts his other hand and runs it over the figurine; his heart splinters and breaks as more of the plastic gives away under his touch, the mere contact with his heated skin causing it to crumple.

There was nothing salvageable.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

And really, that was his mind needed to start questioning everything again. He just doesn't know what to think of anymore.

The world keeps tilting and falling away _and there was nothing to hold on to_

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

The second training room, the one where he'd trained what felt like years ago with Hiroi-sensei -it had been fixed.

Izuku knew this was bound to happen. His father, ever the perfectionist, wouldn't leave a room in his own home in such a state of disrepair. He knows it was fixed.

And yet, he couldn't shake off the feeling that when he stepped through that door….

(Blood splatters painting the pale floor with red, dark grey as falling like snow over him, resting on his skin as he stares at the screaming, thrashing form of-)

Izuku stands in front of the sliding door, heart pounding in his ears. He draws a long, shivering breath.

 _I can do this._

 _I must do this._

Slowly, as if he was walking to his execution, the young boy slides the door open. Quietly, he steps inside.

The chest is still there, at the back of the room. The tatami matts are the same color and shape as those in the first training room. Everything is neat and tidy-

-yet not.

Something was off. He could feel it in his bones.

It takes him a moment to notice the difference. If he squints hard enough, Izuku can see where the room had to be fixed. Some of the support columns on the ceiling were new, devoid of any burn marks from Endeavor's fire; a majority of the floor around the middle of the training room lacked the wear that comes with Quirk-enhanced people fighting on them for months on end.

Izuku bends down and runs his fingers across the floor. The tatami mats were whiter than before.

So they changed most, if not all of them.

Blood and ash had to be hard to wash out.

A shaky exhale leaves him.

' _Little defective monsters, running around like we belong here.'_

The dojo is caging him on all sides, trapping him, watching him, judging. He feels it pressing down on him, squeezing his heart and fire with condemnation. It's dizzying, how a empty chamber had such an effect.

Unable to bear the silent condemnation hidden in the replaced column and tatami matt, Izuku darts out of the room, heart pounding and fire squirming under his skin, restless.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

He wants to hate the fact that Touya was right.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

"You're upset."

Izuku manages to catch the involuntary flinch before his body betrays him.

"Yes." He responds softly as he sets his book down and reaches for his assignment. "..'uppose I am."

He can feel the weight of Shouto's stare on the back of his head. If he closes his eyes, Izuku can see those bright, mismatched eyes -Rei in his right, Enji in his left, fire and ice and everything their father strived for- looking down at him, quietly attempting to pry open his shell.

The green haired child was just glad his older brother wasn't getting in his face and demanding his attention.

From his behaviour, it seemed like the last time he did so was still fresh in his mind.

(He had to wonder, did Shouto dreamed of that night as often as he did?

The answer was unknown to him, for Shouto never tossed and turned in bed. Rather, he slept like the deaf, arms on his sides and legs straight, back against the mattress. Like he'd learned the most efficient and noiseless way to sleep early on.)

"You don't want to talk about it."

 _I've never met him._

For the briefest of times, he contemplated telling him.

But this was Shouto. And it was precisely because it was him that the words withered and died long before they reached his lips.

 _Little defective monsters, running around like we belong here_

 _Little defective monsters, running around like we_

 _Little defective monsters, running around_

 _Little defective monsters_

 _ **Little defective monster**_

He could almost see Touya at his side, whispering those cruel words once again into his ears. A gaze so gentle that betrayed the ugly, twisted mess beneath. The aftermath of their father's rampage.

"No. I don't."

They continue to work in silence. Izuku manages to swallow the ugly truth and shoves deep down, feeding it to the black flames in his heart.

(He wishes they would still feel cold. Being numb sounded like the better alternative.)

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

" _-with their host back, Present Mic's show will pick up again this week so please stay tuned for more news-"_

Her hand reaches for the radio and turns it off.

Silence.

Outside, she can hear children laughing. Inko sighs tiredly and leans forward, resting her head against the table.

For a moment, she wishes Mitsuki was at her side. A flurry of blond hair, perfectly manicured nails and bright eyes kicking her front door open with arms full of food and an aura that banished anguish as easily as her child sent his fellow students running for their lives.

But deep down, she doesn't want her friend here. It was a dark, ugly feeling that coiled deep within her gut and made her want to tear the windows open and howl how she didn't want anyone in her house -but saying that would lie.

Because the only person she wanted in her home could not be here.

Inko rested her cheek against the cool surface of the table on which she had dinner alone for the past few months. The kitchen felt all too big around her, too massive, too squeaky clean and empty of the familiar tap tap tap of naked feet and loud, chittered laughter that attempted to replicate what her son heard on the computer each day.

But there was none of that. None of the sounds and sensations and sights that gave her the strength to keep going. Now she was just a young woman in a large, empty house -a house that she wished she had never accepted.

 _I should have just left Japan._ She thinks as she slowly, torturously lifts her head up from the table as if it weighted tons. _I should have just taken Izuku and left the country like Hisashi_ did.

And how ironic it was, that she wished she had taken the same route her ex boyfriend took -the very same thing that had driven her to doing something as irresponsible as sleeping with Todoroki Enji when he was clearly a married man.

A part of this was his fault -a very large part of this- but some of the fault lied in her too.

Inko should have never let him know he was a father. Shouldn't have taken even a dime of his money, or accepted to send Izuku to him if he manifested a fire Quirk.

 _Damn that man._

Inko just wants to cry again at this point, because despite all of her efforts to try and examine the mess she'd stuck herself in with a objective point of view, ultimately it failed. In the end, she just wanted her son back.

She wanted him running around the house, messing up his bed, staying up at all hours of the night because _moooom, the shadow of my desk looks funky_. She wanted the small child back in her arms, messy curls and all, wrapped in her embrace like when they sat down together to watch the television.

Inko inhaled sharply, running her left hand through her unkempt hair.

No, she couldn't dwell.

Izuku was safe. He was _learning_. He was mastering his Quirk and soon he was going to march through her front door, smile as wide as All might's as she gathered him in her arms. He would be tall and strong and happy, happier than he'd ever been here where the other children mocked him for his Quirkless state or more recently, shied away from him after his latent Quirk emerged.

Knowing this barely alleviated the gaping hole she felt in her chest since the car door closed on her boy. Deep down, Inko knew that if she stayed still, she was going rot away.

But gathering the energy to move was harder than ever.

Minutes pass until she was able to muster the strength to get up from the kitchen, and amble to the back. The hallway is too quiet, and there's no toys scattered by Inko's feet, creating a minefield of little plastic heroes for her to dodge. No crayons to pick up, no shoes left strewn by the front door.

She takes her basket of clothes by the stairs -only hers, she'd cleaned the last of his clothes months ago- and heads out to the back of the too big, too silent house.

A equality empty garden greets her when she steps outside and walks over to the clothesline. Bending down, Inko sets the basket down and picks up the first article of clothing -a soft, familiar green dress. She holds it up to the sky, staring at the silk flowing in the wind intensely.

Her hands tighten on the fabric. She feels her expression twist into something ugly as she tosses it onto the clothesline, barely making sure that it doesn't fall to the floor. Inko almost wants it to -she wants to stomp on it and let the bugs have it, price be damned.

But she holds her aimless frustration and directs it to more fruitful endeavors -namely, making sure the humid clothes she'd washed this morning don't end up rotting in the basket. It happened twice now since...since then, and she hated going shopping no matter how many times Mitsuki accompanied her.

It just wasn't the same without having to worry about Izuku wandering off.

As she sets a blouse onto the clothesline, she spots Katsuki stalking up and down the street, tiny blond brows furrowed together as he made another lap around the block. Inko spies him from over the fence -she couldn't see his face, but she was certain the young boy's expression was as unpleasant as hers.

The boy had taken up to training full time after Izuku left; channeling the wild temperament that had grown in his heart after that day into his goal of becoming a hero. Inko had no doubt he would make it into Yuuei. A blind man could see how dedicated Katsuki was.

Sometimes, when she looks out the window and sees him run past her home, she imagines a young green-haired boy jogging behind him, struggling to catch up on exhausted legs yet carrying on through sheer determination. Babbling about possible training regiments and diets and so many terms he still couldn't understand, but picked up avidely.

(The first time it happened, she'd cried herself to sleep.)

 _They'll see eachother again._ She tries to console herself. _They'll get into Yuuei together, and Izuku's going to talk my ear off about all the people he meets at school._

If she got him back by then. The thought tasted bitter on her tongue.

Katsuki passes by again, jogging a stoic determination no five year old should have. Inko watches him pass, biting her lower lip at the sheer relentless aura wrapped around the child.

She knew the two boys were walking the path of heroes -that was a inevitability. With their shared love of heroics, Katsuki's personality and Quirk, Endeavor's backing -working as a pro-hero was the only thing she could realistically see her Izuku doing. But here, watching her friend's son run himself ragged, Inko was hesitant to say this goal was good for him.

Katsuki was just so full of restless anger nowadays.

This rage exhumed out of him, driving him forward. It was unhealthy. According to Mitsuki, he'd pushed away most of the other children his age. The other half he didn't actively breathe fire at were too scared by his fits of fury to approach the blonde.

For all his shouting that he didn't care, his behavioral issues had gotten exponentially worse since Izuku left.

As the blond disappears around the bend once more, the lone mother's gaze drifts over to the green dress hanging on the clothesline, shimmering almost mockly under the afternoon sun.

 _He's not the only one._

Gritting her teeth, she takes her basket and goes around the house, heading for her mailbox. Wrenching the little metal box open, she quickly grabs the small pile of letters before walking back inside.

The basket is tossed in the bathroom without a glance back. Inko heads for the kitchen once more, dropping the pile of papers onto the table. Her old, faithful kettle is placed on stove as she flops back down on the nearest chair.

Just the simple exercise of getting up and finishing her laundry was exhausting. It didn't have the same feel to it, the same necessity now that she lived alone.

As the water begins to warm, she sorts through her letters. The publicity pamphlets go straight to the recycling bin. The bills are set aside in a neat stack to address later. The magazine on heroes -a subscription Izuku had begged her to get, even though he had yet to master reading- is left on the counter as she goes to make herself a cup of coffee.

Coming back, she's left with a rather large packet, the kind of folder one would use to send documents through the mail. How curious. She had no living relative left, and Mitsuki only lived a minute away. Was it a elaborate advertisement?

Opening it with her nails, she's greeted with two letters falling out onto the table. Curious, Inko takes the largest one first.

The paper that comes out is clean and printed.

 _Inko,_

 _Izuku has expressed the desire to maintain contact through letter correspondence. As such, I will have him write once every week to you._

 _The change in household has been a shock to him, but he is adapting. His training though a challenge, is going well. I forsee he will find a place at Yuuei._

 _Best regards,_

 _Todoroki Enji_

Short. Clipped. Detached. To the point.

(How did she ever love this man?)

Inko blinks down at the letter, befuddled as her mind works to absorb the information. Her green eyes lift from the white page, straying towards the smaller one letter laying forgotten farther away.

It takes her a full second to understand what she'd just read.

Another to recognize the slanted, awkward writing on the second letter.

Oh.

 _Oh god-_

Her tea cup crashes to the ground, knocked off the table by her flailing arm as Inko lunges for the little letter, her stomach in her throat as she grabbed it with trembling fingers. Despite this, she opens it with the utmost care -frightened that even the smallest brisk move could tear the precious little paper apart and render it unreadable. It was a absurd fear, but it spurns her to handle the letter as if it was a priceless glass figurine.

She nearly cries at the sight of the familiar writing inside.

 _Oka-san,_

 _I hope you're okay. I know you didn't want me to go, but you did what was good for me. I'm getting better with my Quirk. I can't wait to show it to you! I'll be the Number One Hero in no time!_

 _Things are okay here. My bedroom's really big. A bit too empty? It's weird. Shouto makes it better though._

 _Shouto's my brother. I have four siblings! I have three brothers and a sister. Shouto's the youngest besides me; he's nice. His Quirk lets him use fire and ice, that's so cool! I also have two brothers called Touya and Natsuo, and my sister is called Fuyumi. She's nice too._

 _I'm sorry about running away. I didn't want to make you sad. I hope you can forgive me._

 _Love,_

 _Tod-_

This was hastily scribbled out.

 _Midoriya Izuku_

Inko releases the breath she didn't know she was holding.

With it something else left -or rather, was alleviated. A ache in her chest, one that had only grown bigger and wilder ever since that day she'd gone out to the Todoroki household only to see a wide-eyed half-wide Izuku who ran at the sight of her.

Inko looks down at her son's letter, tracing his slanted writing -cleaner than before, he'd been practicing- with a index finger. She can almost see him through every letter. His furrowed brows, crinkled nose; the way he bit his lower lip pensively, his attention fully invested on his work to the point the world around him faded away.

This…

This wasn't Izuku, far from it. It wasn't her son, warm and safe in her arms. Nothing could compare to having the young, green-haired boy at her side again, and certainly not this tiny slip of paper.

But, this is a start.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Izuku nervously adjusts the tie on his neck, hating the way the fabric dug into his skin.

Every cell in his body wanted to rip the strange, constricting little cloth off himself -as well as the dark vest and the dark pants and the white shirt which itched in a way that all just begged to be set on fire- but he managed to wrestle that urge down.

Undoubtedly, his father would make Fuyumi fetch him another one and honestly, the less attention he drew to himself, the better.

Distantly, he wishes she had come with them.

The silence in the car was oppressive.

Shouto's warm body at his side was a comforting solid weight against him, easing some of the choking tightness in his throat. It was silly, but him just being here made things bearable. It made him feel warm, and that wasn't just because of his left side which he shamelessly took advantage of during the colder nights. With Shouto here, he just felt safer.

Izuku still remembers the last time his father put him in front of the cameras, and it wasn't something he wished to repeat -but it seemed like he had no voice in the matter.

Hopefully things went better this time.

At least Shouto is with me.

"Behave." His father tells them sternly as they arrive. His voice leaves no room for rebuttals. "Stay close to me. Don't get lost. Don't follow anyone. Keep him out of trouble." This was aimed at Shouto, who gives a slight nod of acknowledgement.

He still didn't look at Endeavor, his gaze stubbornly set on the back of the driver's seat like merely acknowledging his presence would result in him contracting a deadly plague.

Izuku hadn't noticed this, before. How the second youngest Todoroki took any and all opportunity he got to ignore their father. How he would only speak to the man when Endeavor scolded him, or when they were training.

Then again, Izuku himself had only rarely spoken to the man outside of the later event, so did he have any right to judge?

"-don't talk to the other heroes unless addressed directly, or I give you permission. Don't make noises and don't speak-"

Izuku's train of thought disastrously veers off track and crashes into a sudden mountain.

Wait.

Other heroes?

Izuku's tiny heart threatens to burst. As in, some kind of hero meeting?

 _-oh god what if All Might was there-_

Something inside Izuku sputters like a failing car and rasps out its last few breaths.

He makes the tiniest, stifled sound at this, almost unconscious pressing closer to his brother's side. Shouto glances his way, a tiny frown darkening his usually inexpressive features. Through the haze clouding his mind, Izuku can feel him tapping his shoulder in an awkward attempt to comfort him.

Thankfully, their father was too busy with his phone to notice his youngest quietly turning into liquid pudding inside his expensive clothes.

This trend continues outside the car.

Izuku has to stifle the dread bubbling up in him as he steps out of the vehicle; he still remembers the last time he was outside the Todoroki property and it's not a experience he wants to repeat.

At least this time, he had a better hold of his Quirk. A rather pathetic one, but it kept his fire from coming out as nervous little sparks as the first adults noted his father's presence -and thus, the two children standing in his shadow.

The bright flashes of light from the cameras bring back bad memories.

Izuku's stomach rolls, and he has to force his breathing to stay even. He feels Shouto's hand grab a hold of his arm firmly and tug him forward after their father, reminding him that standing still was not a option. His brother was a steadying presence at his side, one he followed gladly.

To his relief, there were fewer of the adults carrying those big cameras inside.

To his dread, the horde of adults demanding their attention with screams and calls are replaced by men and women dressed either in nice clothes or hero costumes.

 _Oh no._ At the sight of so many of them, Izuku's stomach lodges itself in his throat. His brain shortens out. His green eyes sweep over the large room -across the banquet of food, the laughing adults, the children ambling about in nicely cut clothes, the capes and masks and armors-

Oh. Those...those were…

He suddenly feels even smaller, if that was possible when he was standing next to his behemoth of a father.

But he also feels giddy.

"Don't stray." Shouto mutters in his ear before turning away, startling him. By the time he looks at his sibling, he's ambling to their father's side in a way that spoke of practice. Expression firm and calm -only the steel look in his mismatched eyes betraying his dislike of the whole outing.

Izuku wondered quietly just how often his brother got dragged to these events.

(Couldn't he have gotten a little warning?)

Izuku's sanity officially goes out of order when he catches a glimpse of golden hair and his ears pick up the unmistakable familiar laughter that he'd heard through television before he could remember. He stops abruptly, eyes locking onto the massive rolling shoulders and brilliant smile.

It's All Might.

The fire splutters in his chest like fireworks. He barely keeps it from burning the sleeves of his shirt.

 _It's All Might._

Multiple conflicting emotions crash into him. Terror. Fear. Exhilaration. Apprehension. His legs tremble underneath him, torn between following Shouto -who had yet to notice him falling behind -and doing something that even his young mind registers as incredibly stupid.

Unfortunately for his sanity, the stupid was winning.

Izuku is aware, distantly, of what he needs to do -as much of a lunacy as his mind told him it was, but his heart was adamant on doing.

He had to meet All Might.

Had to see him.

He had, he _had-_

 _ **-had to know-**_

Was All Might different, too?

Did something darker and uglier hide under that smile of his? Was that heroic bravado just a front?

He glances back at his father. Endeavor is talking to a man he doesn't recognize. Black, clean clothes -tuxedo, that's the word. With his graying hair, he doesn't look much like a hero. Retired maybe? Unimportant.

Shouto is standing by, mismatched eyes staring off into the distance. Izuku follows his gaze -to the family of armored heroes and the blue-haired boys, the smallest flailing his arms around. Huh.

Well, he's occupied. He won't notice Izuku running off.

 _You're being a absolute idiot,_ Kacchan mutter in his ears as he shifts on his feet, fidgeting. It's the first time in a while that he hears his friend. _He's going to kill you for this._

There's no need to clarify who they are talking about.

Maybe, Izuku concedes. Maybe he will. Or maybe he won't. Touya's warning about usefulness and monsters brushes against the back of his mind like a poisonous fog.

Izuku hesitates.

Then he hears the familiar laugh again, and something in him burns. It's not his fire -it's gentle, tingly, spreading through his body and wrapping him in it's warmth. It leaves him hopeful. Makes him feel braver.

Endeavor is pushed at the back of his mind. It's reckless, but…

Maybe some things were worth the danger.

Izuku takes a step forward.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Toshinori was, overall, having a good time. The galla wasn't his idea of a peaceful night on a day off from patrol, but it was also a fundraiser amongst the top ranked heroes, so him not showing up would be the height of rudeness.

At the very least, he had some entertainment. The conversations were nice, and the drinks too. The organizers were even nice enough to keep the salivating crowd of reporters at bay outside. That in itself is rare.

Then again, it wasn't the usual kind of galla.

Toshinori takes another sip of his drink, happy to have a moment's peace. If there was a word he could use to describe it, it was a reunion.

Seeing the occasional child following their pro-hero parents, wide-eyed as they took in all of the people in the room really brought a smile to his face. Especially the sight of the two little boys following Endeavor like little ducklings -that nearly brought Toshinori to tears from how adorable it was.

The Number Two Hero avoids him like a plague, and Toshinori allows him too for now.

He was still bitter about the last listing, it seemed.

Toshinori didn't really understand why the other man was so negative. They'd clashed back in Yuuei, but that was years ago. And despite what Todoroki believed, hero work wasn't a competition. There was more to life than rankings.

Unfortunately, Endeavor thought otherwise.

This was troubling, seeing just how good the other man's life was. A high paying job serving society, country-wide recognition, _a family-_

A tiny part wished he had that.

(The path of the Number One hero was a lonely one, especially with One for all.)

His predecessor's fate was enough of a warning. His smile faltered for a fraction of a second at the memory of Nana Shimura.

Suddenly, the tiny drink he was holding didn't feel like enough. He couldn't even feel a happy buzz that came with drinking alcohol. Maybe he should get something stronger?

There weren't any servers nearby, but the buffet was just a few feet away. Toshinori turned around to go fetch a better drink-

...and proceeded to nearly step on something small and green.

 _Crap!_ Toshinori stumbles over this sudden obstacle, barely managing to right himself.

To his utter embarrassment, it's a kid he nearly walks on.

The boy looks up at him with wide eyes -too wide, Toshinori was certain that at any moment they would pop out of his tiny head. He has a mop of messy hair the shade of new grass, matching the color of his eyes. His skin was almost too pale, nearly matching with the white shirt of his tiny tuxedo. It made the freckles peppering his cheeks stand out even more.

Neither of them spoke as they gauged each other.

Toshinori watched as the boy's face slowly turned red enough to put a stop light to shame. A squeaked sound leaves the child's mouth, and he looks down to the floor embarrassment.

Well, this is how the great All Might died.

Killed by diabetes.

"What's your name?" Toshinori asks, soft and quiet for fear of this tiny little being bursting from anxiety.

Green eyes peaked up at him from a fringe of messy green locks. Doubt, wonder and contemplation shone in those little emerald orbs. For the longest time, the child doesn't speak.

And then finally:

"..Izuku."

"Alright then, Izuku." He says carefully, even though his insides are acting up something horrible. It's not the first time he'd interacted with a child without the parent nearby so cool it, Toshinori. It's not like the boy was going to start bawling randomly.

Right?

...he needed to get the kid back.

"Where are your parents?"

Several emotions pass through the child's face. Surprise, apprehension, what looked like fear -until it settled into shame.

 _He ran off then._

He changes direction.

"Did you need something, kid?" Smiling wider, he bends down to be closer to the boy's height. One thing he learned early on about children, is that his height was a good way to make their necks ache from looking up -and for the shy ones like Izuku seemed to be, his towering figure left them intimidated and unable to speak.

Which was bad when there was a lone child and no adult in sight besides Toshinori himself.

Honestly, who lost a child?

"I...I just wanted to know if," The boy pauses, fidgeting again. He bites his lower lip. Something flickers on his forearms, too quickly for even All Might to catch it. Toshinori barely controls the frown threatening to inch its way into his face. His Quirk acting up? It would be the norm given his age. "...wanna know if you're nice."

Toshinori stares, smile faltering.

It's impolite, maybe even terrifying to Izuku, but he can't help it.

That...that was not the kind of question he was expecting. It's not the first time someone had questioned his outgoing behavior -not everyone took to his smiling and cheerful behavior exactly the same, especially naturally more suspicious individuals and media outlets. He'd gotten his fair share of this during his early years, but as his role as the Symbol of Peace solidified those questions ebbed away to only something one would find in chat rooms in dark corners of the web.

A child asking him something along similar lines was certainly a first.

He's at a lost on what to do.

Izuku continue to stare up at him with that strange mixture of wonder and apprehension, so Toshinori does the first thing he can think of -he squats down and offers his hands to the little boy, showing him that he meant no harm.

"What do you think?"

The green haired child is quiet, at first.

He looks down at the offered hands like a owl peering down from a tree -he even tilts his head to the side. Toshinori tries not to fidget at the way those green eyes sweep over the faint scarring on his fingers, wounds from a time when One for All wasn't quite settled into his skin. There's others too -some from fights that had pushed him to his limits.

His skin is evidence of years spent fighting for a better society.

Just as he feared he would get nowhere, Izuku reaches forward and runs his hands over his palms, studying the rough texture. Toshinori tears his gaze away from his freckled face to look at the short, thin little fingers stretched out on his hands, trying to stretch out to touch all of his palms but failing most spectacularly. Izuku's hands are not even half the size of his palms.

They're unbelievably tiny compared to his own.

 _This is what I fight for,_ a part of Toshinori thinks dazedly.

Completely unaware of what he was causing in the Number One Hero, Izuku looks up.

"You're good." He finally admits solemnly. There's a tiny smile on his lips and the corner of his eyes crinkle with a joy he cannot describe.

Toshinori feels his own smile grow wider at the sight, and Izuku's does in return. There's a tiny, angelic giggle that sends pleasant, giddy warmth through Toshinori's skin, almost mimicking the buzz of energy that came with wielding One for All. They must look quite strange to onlookers -especially him, squatting in a vain attempt to match the child's height while they both grinned like loons.

This couldn't last forever, though. Toshinori is well aware of this -he has to return the boy to his probably fretful parents.

"Can I?" He asks, opening his arms wider to show his intention. Izuku takes a moment to decide, then nods.

Carefully, telegraphing his every movement, Toshinori leans down and scoops the boy off the floor. Izuku makes a soft sound and holds on to him, clutching the fabric of his tuxedo tightly. His eyes are the size of dinner plates as he looks down.

"Tall." Izuku mumbled, almost too quietly for Toshinori to pick up. This child was way too adorable for his own good. Like a tiny rumpled puppy begging for attention.

Toshinori was almost tempted to keep him.

Maybe if he tucks him under his coat, he could probably sneak-

Toshinori kills that ridiculous idea before it goes anywhere. Had to be the alcohol, he tells himself even if he knew he had only had two measly drinks in the entire afternoon, and it would take him a lot more than that to get tipsy.

Better get the boy back to his parents before he ends up trying to explain why he was stealing another person's kid.

"Do you see your parents?" The hero asks as he looks around, looking for a mop of moss green hair. His eyes spot a few heroes, but none of them have similar features to the child he was holding, nor looked like they were looking for a missing preschooler.

In his arms, Izuku makes a face and looks down. He refuses to make eye contact.

 _Not talking, eh?_

"Izuku, look at me."

There's a indignant squawk. Shy, Izuku tucks his head low to hide his face -Toshinori feels a tiny button nose press against his neck. He tries not to choke.

"Izuku, my boy, can you please…?"

"I don't wanna." A tiny voice mutters petulantly against his throat. "I like you. Can I stay?"

 _Don't tempt me._

"Now, now," Toshinori racks his head for ideas. "That's not nice. I'm sure your mother and father miss you. You don't want to make them feel bad, right?"

Green eyes peek from behind green curls. There's an expression on Izuku's face that Toshinori can't quite grasp. It's tired and nervous -emotions that he doesn't think a boy his age should be experiencing.

Now he looks closer, there was something off about the child. Why did he look so familiar-

This time he catches it. A sputter of sparks appears on the child's fingers, the little burst of color -a curious mixture of silver, green and purple- dissipating just as quickly.

Wait.

It looked like…fire.

Just like that, things clicked in place.

Oh.

 _Shit._

He recognized this kid. This was Endeavor's kid.

 _Oh dear._ That is all he thinks as he holds the green haired boy closer and looks around, silently panicking as he looks for the fiery hero.

Maybe if he returned the child fast enough-

"I'll like it if you gave me back my son."

Toshinori couldn't remember a time when Endeavor had ever sounded so _frosty_.

Slowly, he turns around.

Todoroki Enji stands in front of him, arms crossed and somehow looming despite the few inches Toshinori had on him. The flames on his skin had spread across his face, dangerously close to his clothes and nearly forming the familiar mane of orange-red flames he cloaked himself with while in his hero costume.

In short, he looks ready to fry Toshinori on the spot, and he can't really fault him for that.

The other Todoroki child was at his side; the dual haired boy from before was standing besides his father, arms crossed, eyes narrowed towards Toshinori -who was starting to feel a bit exposed under that scrutinizing glare.

How old was this child, to make such a dangerous expression?

A sharp noise made him turn his gaze back to Endeavor. The Todoroki patriarch extends an arm, a hand nearly large enough to hold Izuku with ease reaching for the child.

Reluctantly, he hands him over.

Izuku is even more quiet during the transfer. Toshinori follows the way Endeavor curls his arm under the child and keeps him close to his chest. The action looks strangely empty to his eyes -there's a detachment between the father and his son. Izuku doesn't look that comfortable in his father's arms.

Toshinori coughs discreetly. It was not his place to gossip about what he didn't know.

"Of course." He says as Izuku is transfered. "Izuku was no bother."

"He won't do it again." Endeavor promises with gritted teeth.

Toshinori winces.

Thankfully, that seems to be it. The flaming hero turns around and walks off, the dual haired child trotting obediently at his side. And Izuku-

Well.

The boy waves at him shyly from over Endeavor's shoulder.

Hesitantly, Toshinori waved back.

At his response, the green haired child's face turns redder than a tomato and he curls inward, tucking his face behind his hands. Even from where he stood, his ears pick up the tiny squeak.

It's disarmingly adorable. Toshinori couldn't stop smiling even if he tried.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Endeavor keeps him in his sights for the rest of the evening. A looming shadow that presses down his spine, steadily wearing him down at the hours passed.

Shouto makes sure this time that he stays close. His grip on Izuku's arm is almost painful.

Izuku doesn't like his silence.

He hates it even more when they reach home.

The front door closing behind them feels like a finality. Izuku was hyper aware of Shouto standing next to him, pale fingers digging into his side. Silent terror exudes from him. It's the most frightened Izuku had seen his older brother, counting _that_ night.

Was this going to be a repeat?

His scar aches.

He wants to cover it with his hand, but a innate instinct keep him still -as if it would spare him from what was ahead.

Endeavor doesn't scream as he walks past them and goes to stand in front of the boys. He doesn't shout, he doesn't press into Izuku's personal space and leave him terrified and breathless. He doesn't even send him to his room.

But somehow, what he tells the green haired boy is far worse than anything he could have done.

"You can forget about the letters."

A ice cold spear of ice stabs into Izuku's gut.

 _Oh._

 _Oh god no._

It digs deeper when the man turns around and start walking away.

He's not thinking when he throws himself forward, rushing after his father -no, he couldn't do this, he worked so hard to make that letter Endeavor couldn't just-

In his panic, he stumbles and trips over his own two legs, falling to his knees on the hard wooden floor.

At the sound of his cry, his father paused, turning around to look at him. Unimpressed. Embarrassment was a bitter pill for Izuku to swallow, but it was overshadowed by the terror lighting up every single one of his nerves like a electric storm.

Endeavor looks down at him like he's a worm. Izuku feels his face burn at he picks him up.

"Give me one good reason to let you have this after the complete and utter _embarrassment_ you were today."

There were many things he could say.

 _I didn't mean to-_

 _I just saw him-_

 _I needed to know if he was just like y-_

Izuku wants to say all of these things. He wants to let them all out to his father -let out the pain that Touya's truth had put in him. But the words clog in his throat as they form and the only thing that leaves his lips is a panicked string of noises that barely passes as apologies.

Even if it was coherent, Todoroki Enji is not one for apologies. He's a practical man. He favours explanation. There's nothing he could give to him that would be satisfactory, and he knew it.

The tears ran freely down Izuku's face as he stares at the ground, ashamed. He squeezes his eyes shut. So much for his letters.

 _I'm sorry, mom._

"It was my fault."

Izuku's eyes snap open.

 _Shouto, no._

Like a predator assessing newly spotted prey, Endeavor slowly tilted his head towards the dual haired boy at Izuku's left. Pinned in place by fear and the loud beat of his heart in his ears, Izuku could only watch as Shouto took a step forward -placing himself slightly in front of him.

"Your fault." Endeavor drawls, the way he said it feeling like nails on chalkboard. His tone was quiet, contemplating. Not cold, but neither furious. "It was your fault that he ran off, you say?"

There it was again, that strange calm tone.

Izuku can't breathe.

The last time he'd heard it -the last time it was directed at him -his shaking right hand grabs onto the nonexistent scar on his arm. He grips it tight enough to hurt. He tries to make a sound of warning to his brother, to warn him because Shouto hadn't been there last time, he hadn't seen what their father was capable of.

But Shouto doesn't listen. He stand defiantly in front of their father, looking absolutely diminutive next to the giant of a man that was Todoroki Enji.

"Yes."

Like a train wreck in slow motion, Izuku can't look away.

Not as Endeavor's face twists into something almost inhuman in nature.

Not as his open hand connects with his brother's scarred cheek.

Shouto hits the ground at his feet. He barely grunts when his failing limbs fall to the floor, likely jolting his bruises from yesterday's training. Izuku felt the impact of the blow down to his bones -a mere reflection of a slap that should have been meant for him, not his older brother.

For a moment, nobody moves.

The silence hangs over them.

"Your fault? Truly?" Endeavor's voices rings out quietly through the main hall. Izuku's blood runs cold. "Are you sure about that, Shouto?"

 _He's giving you an out,_ Izuku wants to scream. _Take it._

(But he knows just how stubborn his brother is.)

He watches as the shock of red and white hair lifts from the floor. Shouto glares through the fringe of hair over his eyes, mismatched orbs burning. As expected, he drags himself to his feet and plants himself once more between Izuku and Endeavor.

His head is slightly tilted to the side, allowing Izuku to see the bloody grimace and the bared teeth.

"Yes."

The word was stated with Shouto's characteristic quiet flatness, but it sounds so loud in Izuku's ears when stated in the silent room.

Their father's lips twitches. The muscles of his left arm tense; Izuku sees the rage reaching another boiling point. He was going to hit Shouto again.

And at that moment, he realizes that he can't allow it to happen. This was wrong. His brother should not have to bear the weight mistakes.

So, he moves.

It's not the first time he stepped between two people.

It's the first time he does it against a adult.

What he feels when he steps pass Shouto is not the same apprehension that gnawed deep in his guts when he stood up to Kacchan. The fear he feels at the sight of his father -a fully trained, high ranked pro-hero- towering over him is overshadowed by a ball of pent up emotions he never could fully unwrap. Bitterness and resentment born from a older sibling's words.

Despite his terror, despite the very real danger of what he is doing, Izuku digs his feet and bares his teeth at the man.

Lets him see the defective thing he'd brought into his home.

" _ **Enough."**_

(He can almost feel Touya's rage rolling through his flesh, molding with his own into a sharp needle point of intent. It's too much, overflowing and overpowering, and he can barely reign the heat in.)

Endeavor, surprisingly, stops, expression shifting to something guarded and indescribable. He stands there, silent, the flames on his skin betraying the still boiling fury beneath his stillness by flickering like a wildfire. His hand hangs in the air; Izuku eyes it like it's a boulder atop of a cliff, ready to come crashing down on their heads.

The blow never comes.

Instead, they stand there in silence, gazing at each other. Shouto is silent behind him, but Izuku can sense his warmth only a scant few inches from his back.

He refuses to turn around to check on his older brother, for fear that if he looks away from his father, the man would finish what he started. Grab him by the arm and burn the other one, too. Or toss him outside. Or punch him like he'd done to Shouto. Or…

Not knowing was terrifying.

But nothing comes.

No more blows, no more shouting.

Just staring -a silent exchange that is only broken when Izuku notices the purple-white reflection in his father's eyes.

Izuku looks down.

His fire is hovers over his flesh; long tongues of dark colored flames weaving together unnaturally like the threads of fabric, forming a barrier between himself, his sibling and Endeavor. The black coloring that was characteristic of his Quirk was still there, but it was darker somehow, less smoky see through and more-

Endeavor shifts on his feet. The flames shift alongside him, squirming against Izuku's shirt; purple rippling to form long points. Silver shone from the inside of the fire.

...solid.

Izuku swallows slowly at the sight. He can't think, torn between the confusion at the sight of his Quirk reacting like this and the adrenaline of the confrontation.

Unsure, he looks up to his father. Endeavor's expression was the same, but there was something slightly different -something he couldn't quite grasp, but he could see the contemplative glint in those aquamarine eyes the longer they gaze at the interlocked flames separating him from his children.

For a moment, Izuku thinks his father was going to set his Quirk aflame. Swallow up all the black and silver with Hellflame's vibrant orange, just like that time in the training room. Izuku remembers the pain well. He braces himself for the pain, ignoring how his legs shake under him and his skin feels cold and clammy.

The fire shifts again like water.

Broad, sloppily interlocking panels replace the tiny jagged spires. Silver gleams around the edges. The wooden floor buckles under the heat, darkening. Izuku's chest twines with a familiar pain.

 _Too much._

And Endeavor is still inexplicably quiet, gazing down at him silently.

Slowly, his hand lowers. Drops at his side. The creases around his eyes slacken -the flickering flames cool to something more tamed, more manageable. It's only when he takes a step back that Izuku feels the tight little ball in himself slacken to something more bearable.

He allows himself to breathe again.

"You won't do that again. Do you hear?"

Izuku lowers his head meekly, but he doesn't take his eyes off his father, wary.

"Yes." The words taste stale in his mouth.

Despite this, his flames don't budge from in front of him.

"And you." Their father's gaze turns away from Izuku. He feels Shouto go stiff behind him, breath hitching, fear breaking through the stoic barrier. "You will surpass All Might with my Quirk." Endeavor says quietly. His eyes are looking past Izuku -to Shouto. "My blood -my fire runs through your veins. I won't accept anything less."

A pause. That burning gaze shifts to Izuku.

He has to fight not to throw up.

"Don't do this again. Last warning." Endeavor rumbles. His eyes look down, to the unnatural fire. "Put that out." He says, sharply.

And Izuku does.

From the corner of his eyes, he notices with a inner wince the scorched wood. There's a curved burn mark where his fire had risen up.

Endeavor doesn't seem to be bothered by the damage. Instead, he spins around and stomps away, each of his steps making the earth shake. Izuku 's legs quiver.

 _I stood up to him._ He thinks numbly.

They give out when their father is gone from sight.

"Izuku!" He hears his brother hiss at his side. Shouto peers down at him, looking at him in concern. "Are you alright?" He asks quietly, eyes darting to the hallway his father had just left through. The lights were out, so they could not see very far into the building.

He can't answer.

For Izuku, it felt like Todoroki Enji was still there, lurking, waiting for him to turn his back and make himself vulnerable.

Shouto's hands rest on his shoulder and back, shaking him slightly and oh look, he was trembling. And here he thought it only happened when his Quirk was low on fuel.

Maybe he was on his way there, after the stunt he'd just pulled.

"Izu..?"

"I'm fine." He croaks. Then he remembers how much his sibling hates that word, so he explains. "I'm not hurt. I'm good. Tired. But good."

Silence.

They both stare at the half-crescent mark at their feet. The hollow feeling in Izuku's chest is overshadowed by the spreading numbness he feels as his mind replays what just occurred.

"I did that." Izuku mutters. He turns his head towards Shouto, who returned his stare. "I did that." He repeated, once more.

He still couldn't believed. Had his father thought he would -no, not that. It was impossible. Endeavor could have canceled his flames with his own.

And yet he didn't.

"Yes."

"He.." Izuku halts, hesitating. "I thought he was going to burn me." He admits quietly.

Shouto's lips pressed thin. "I thought so too." Izuku didn't need to look at him to know he was staring at his nearly-unblemished arm.

They grow quiet again.

The house feels too big around them. The walls stretch high above their heads, looming. It's too dark. Too big.

"Let's go." Shouto says abruptly, lifting him to his feet. Izuku obediently lets him drag him down the sleeping quarters.

"...yeah."

(He doesn't know it at the time, but a seed of rebellion had been planted in Shouto's mind.)

* * *

 **I swear I'm not turning Izuku into a villain.** **If anything happens that's Touya's fault.**

 **I really hated writing that last section. It really pained me to rollback most of Endeavor's progression towards being a functioning human being and a father, but for the sake of the story and his character development it had to be done. All Might is frankly -and it puts a bitter taste in my mouth using the term this way- Endeavor's trigger. That's the one subject that absolutely pisses him off.**

 **Man, Shouto is going to give him so much shit. Prepare for sass.**

 **Izuku's not going to take his crap forever either.**

 **Also, you might have noticed a new aspect of Izuku's Quirk ;) By now some of you might realize where I'm going with it -at least part of it. Izuku's fire is fire purely in appearance -it's a hybrid of Inko's pull ability and Endeavor's Hellflame, so it kinda gives the middle finger to the laws of physics if it's color wasn't enough of a clue.**

 **Psh, if you read this last scene carefully, you'll notice another aspect of Izuku's Quirk. It's very very faint, you'll have to squint to notice it. Have fun :)**

 **And don't worry, someone's gonna get to punch Endeavor.**

 **Just because I want a redemption arc for him doesn't mean I won't put him through the wringer.**

 **Ayy now that's done, I got a 500 word paper to do for *checks time * midnight ay. So in 5 hours. Shit no 4. Fuck.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Holy shit.**

 **Holy.**

 **Shit.**

 **This is 50 pages long. MY SANITY.**

 **I love the fact I wanted to just make 20 pages max with this chapter, but it's 50+. Fuck me I have no self control.**

 **If anything is missing just tell me, I'm a bit crosseyed from rereading the same 54 ish pages over and over again. There's a lot that was trimmed down from the initial cut, so ayy. I want to curl up and cry.**

* * *

 _Okaa-san,_

 _Again, thank you for the shoes. They're much nicer than the ones I have. Well, not by pri -not that it has anything to do with it! I think maybe because they're from you?_

 _I'll shut up now._

 _Not much has changed since my last letter. Things could be different. Shouto and father fight a lot. I can hear them even from the garden. Sometimes Natsuo joins in. Usually Fuyumi takes me to her room or I go to my second bedroom, like you suggested._

 _I don't like them shouting, but maybe they need to let it out somehow. Maybe I'm blabbering, but I don't think it's a good idea to keep that anger in. Or bottled? Is that the word?_

 _Isn't Kacchan's birthday coming up soon? Father doesn't want me to go, but...well, I wish I could at least get him something. Maybe some training gear, since you said that's most of what he spends his days doing? I don't think it's healthy, though._

 _Love,_

 _Midoriya Izuku._

 _ **.**_

 _ **.**_

 _ **.**_

 _Izuku,_

 _I'm glad you enjoyed my gift. Don't forget to take off all your clothes before you start napping, young boy! Honestly, I think you could burn the whole house down and sleep through it._

 _I don't like this. Enji is the adult in this situation, he shouldn't be shouting at children. I worry sometimes at what you say. I know he's your father, and he's the best suitable person to train your Quirk… but there are limits._

 _Is Shouto still…? Of course he is. Stubborn boy. I know it's not the best advice, but just be there for him, okay? He might not communicate it, but he needs your support. Even if what he's doing is wrong._

 _Why don't you send a letter to Katsuki beforehand? I'm sure he would like it. He doesn't say it, but I'm certain that he misses you. In his own, sort of constipated way. Those were Mitsuki's words, not mine. She likes looking over my shoulder while I write._

 _With much love,_

 _Midoriya Inko_

 _ **.**_

 _ **.**_

 _ **.**_

 _Okaa-san,_

 _I'm working on it! Controlling what I burn or don't burn is hard. I think I have a subconscious predisposition to chewing on clothes. Or maybe my Quirk does? The Quirk Specialist father took me to for registration told us it's because my Quirk reacts in a reflection of my mental and emotional state, but honestly I think it's just the shoes. They had a spot at the heel where they dug into my feet no matter what kind of socks I put on._

 _Father tries buying me fireproof clothes, but so far there's not much I can't accidentally burn. You should have seen what I did to one of the decorative boulders in the garden last fall. I don't remember it too well since I had a cold, but according to Natsuo and Fuyumi I sneezed and it caught fire._

 _I set a rock. On fire._

 _I still don't get how I managed to do that..._

 _I know, you're right. Maybe Father should not be yelling. Or maybe he should. It's been a few years but I still don't get how this works. I've got a spine -or is it grown a spine?- overtime, but sometimes it gets into my skin. I'm not that scared anymore, just tired. Weary._

 _I wish there was less shouting and more getting along._

 _I know you're saying I should be there for my brother, but in all honesty… being around Shouto has been challenging. I don't think I should say a lot about it, it's not my place, but I think what he's doing is just hurting everyone involved -including himself._

 _At least we still talk. I don't think I could pull through without him._

 _You mean, send another letter? You told me what happened last two times. I don't think he will hesitate tossing this one into the fireplace again, or setting it on fire himself. You mean well, mom, but I don't think Kacchan wants to see me._ _Ever_ _._

 _Maybe it's better that way._

 _Love,_

 _Midoriya Izuku._

 _PS: Hi Aunt Mitsuki! How are you doing! Is Uncle Masaru doing okay? I hope Kacchan isn't driving you up the walls._

 _ **.**_

 _ **.**_

 _ **.**_

 _Izuku,_

 _Have you thought about meditating more? I know the Quirk Specialist suggested it, but maybe you should include it more actively in your schedule. It might benefit you more than just training. Quirks are part of you, they need to be treated as just another muscle. I'm sure you'll learn to control it soon. I know you won't rest until then -but don't take that as my blessing to literally do that, young man!_

 _A rock? Oh my._

 _It's been a long time since I've had a physics class, but I don't think that's how it works. Honey, I don't think that's how any of this works._

 _Did that man ever pick up a parenting book, or did he leave his wife and servants to do everything for him?! Yelling will only lead to more yelling. Aggression to more aggression. He's not improving the situation by escalating it._

 _I'm sorry you have to put up with that. You're a child, you shouldn't have to see your father, the Number Two Hero, acting like a child having a tantrum. Yes_ _Enji Todoroki_ _, if you are reading this -which you probably are- you stop that unless you want me to come over with a lawyer._

 _I knows it's a lot to ask Izuku, but that's the only thing you can do for Shouto. Provide support. Be there. Maybe you'll wear him down over time._

 _Mitsuki had a bit of a meltdown when Katsuki tossed your letters, especially when he did it without even opening them. She did manage to save the one he threw into the fireplace, but he still refuses to look at it. Disheartening I know honey, but he'll come around. Katsuki has been through a lot. He didn't take to you leaving well, though he denies it vehemently. Mitsuki has been trying to get him to chin up, but even she can't do miracles. He needs time._

 _As for me, I had enough time. Your letter idea was wonderful -look how well you can write!- but it pains me sometimes to keep this going. I can't wait to have you in my arms again. I love you._

 _Love,_

 _Midoriya Inko._

 _Mitsuki's Note: Brat! You better be doing well, I don't want none of the shit that happened two years ago! Do you realize how much tissue Inko went through when she learned you landed in the hospital?_

 _And I haven't broken my husband yet, if anything it's my blonde rat that is doing it for me!_

 _ **.**_

 _ **.**_

 _ **.**_

 _Okaa-san,_

 _You're right. I should. The faster I can get a hold of my Quirk, the less excuse Father has to keep me from visiting. I'll get started on it right away. Thanks for the tip!_

 _Who knows, maybe Shouto can join me. Isn't meditation supposed to help in this kind of things? I hope so. I don't know what to do anymore._

 _The thing is...I've been around Shouto like you suggested. I tried talking to him, I tried consoling him -nothing works! He knows I don't support what he's doing. Nowadays I just avoid the topic altogether. I don't want him getting mad at me. He has a way of...holding on to his anger? It just stays there. For a long time._

 _He is good at holding grudges._

 _Please don't set Auntie Mitsuki on Kacchan, I don't think their house will survive it. Or Uncle Masaru's blood pressure. Just...be with him. Try to get him to lay off training, okay? I know I've said it before, but it's not healthy._

 _...I miss you too, mom. I love you._

 _The day we meet again can't come soon enough._

 _Love,_

 _Midoriya Izuku._

 _PS: You don't have to remind me, Auntie! I feel bad enough already about that. I know mom says it's father's fault for not telling her right away but still._

 _...when did I ask if you were breaking Uncle Masaru? Wait. Nevermind. I'll shut up before you show up at the gates and start throwing toilet paper at the house. You would do it in the spirit of being 'the fun aunt' though I'm sure you're the only one I have, so that's redundant..._

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

It's the joyful songs of the cicadas that gradually draws him out of his slumber.

The coalbed shifts around his body as he pulls himself out, bare feets stepping onto the sand around the pit. The soft ground shifted under his weight, sand and ash dripping from his skin as he climbed up the step and onto the main floor of the room.

Yawning, he ambles towards a open dresser and throws on his clothes before heading towards the door, flicking the last specks of dust out of his hair messily. Stepping outside, he sighs as the sun's warm rays hit his face. His eyes close in bliss, and he hum low in his throat as the skin of his feet soak up the warmth of the wood terrace.

Wind sweeps through green locks. The calls of the cicadas reach a crescendo.

"Awake?"

Izuku hums in acknowledgment, not opening his eyes. The sun was just too comfortable. "You didn't have to wait, you know." He opens his eyes and looks towards where his sibling was laying. Half Hot, Half Cold caused Shouto's temperature fluctuate unevenly on both his sides, making his heat signature unique and easy to sense.

"I don't mind." Shouto tells him from where he sat cross-legged on the terrace floor. The dual-haired fringe of hair falls over his face, partially shielding his equally mismatched eyes that were half-lidded with lassitude. "I didn't want to stay in the house."

Izuku pinched his lips.

 _So he's working from home today._

Sighing, he walks over and flops down next to his older sibling. Shouto accepts his presence promptly, tugging him closer.

They lay against each other on the porch, quietly basking in the summer heat like lizards; Shouto's assignment forgotten to the side in a messy pile of papers, books and pens. Green eyes lazily tracked an ant skittering across the papers, looking for food.

With a upward tug of his lips, he wiggles to rest his head on his sibling's upper legs. Shouto did the same, leaving them curled up in a pile of limbs soaking up the sun. The cicadas continue to sing in the background, their loud song combined with the summer heat and the general isolation of their location lulling the two eight year olds into relaxing.

For anyone else, the heat would have been unbearable. It would have left them a sweaty, ugly mess, red faced and quick to run for some shade or even more blessed cold water. In the best case scenario, a room with a air conditioner they could hibernate in until the stifling heat ebbed down.

For Shouto and Izuku, it was quite the opposite. Instead they revelled in the heat, finding themselves filled with a heavy energy that left them sleepy and lazy -and here on the porch of Izuku's second bedroom, they were away from prying eyes. It was just the two of them, lost and content amidst the summer heat and the sounds of nature, where they could let their walls down and leave their worries behind to melt like ice cream under the summer sun.

After years of practice Shouto's ice side kept him from overheating, providing his body with the means of maintaining his temperature at optimal levels. He smelled clean and fresh to his brother, who found comfort in the mixture of his scent and the smell of the earth coming from the massive garden. The coolness of his right side kept him sweat-free and mildly warm at touch, which was good when the brothers descended into a cuddle pile in the sweltering weather.

Izuku wasn't nearly as graceful with his solution against the blistering heat.

Styxfire demanded a lot from his body and that included warmth -it left him seeking it at every opportunity, eager to soak up energy for his voracious Quirk to store. As such the sun bearing down on him was much needed bliss; another opportunity to revitalize himself without having to expend much effort. He quietly enjoyed this recharge, less effective than consuming fuel by burning but no less refreshing, especially with the comforting presence of his older sibling against him.

Over the years, Shouto's fluctuating temperature had become as comforting as his mother's gifts.

Izuku drags his fingers through his brother's hair gently, enjoying the softness of the mismatched hair. At the familiar touch Shouto makes a low noise at the back of his throat and shifts against him, tucking his face into Izuku's stomach. His nose is cold against his shirt; Izuku barely fights down the instinctive flinch at the half hearted prank.

"Did you finish your work?" He asks instead.

The grumble he gets is incoherent, but enough to give him an idea.

Izuku smiles fondly. "You know that's going to come back to you later."

Shouto grunts wordlessly against his shirt. Izuku pokes him in the side in response. A single blue eye pops open to glare halfheartedly at him.

"I have time." The dual haired boy finally mutters. "We got at least four hours until the tutor gets here."

Having gotten what he wanted, Izuku closes his eyes again and melts once more against the floor. Shouto's breath felt warm against his shirt.

It didn't matter to them what they looked like, messy and barefoot on the porch, quietly whispering to each other as the cicadas continued to sing for them.

It hadn't for years.

Not since that night.

Looking back, it had been a mercy that Endeavor hadn't taken his letter privileges. Now that he was older, Izuku knew better. It hadn't been just their confrontation, or his fire rising up to protect him; there was no way Midoriya Inko would accept her son being completely cut off from her again.

His mother was strong.

It was the only reason she had lasted for so long. The only reason he had, too.

"Think he'll let us go out?" He thinks out loud as he fiddles with the edges of Shouto's shirt.

"Depends." Silence hovers over them as Shouto weights his open question. A bird crows in the distance. "-if we can behave at the next galla. Especially you."

Izuku chuckles fondly. "I haven't done anything wrong in months."

"Sure." Shouto's response reeked of dry sarcasm.

"...says the one who broke that expensive statue at the Minister's ball."

"It was in the way." A pause. Shouto shifts, resting his chin on Izuku's hip. "...and we both agreed it was ugly."

 _And it made him mad._

"He would have torn my head off if I did that."

"No." Shouto replies quietly, eyes fluttering as if he was about to go to sleep. "He likes you."

Izuku snorts. "He doesn't."

"Yes he does."

"Maybe it's because I put effort in my training." Izuku interjects gruffly.

 _Mouth, meet foot._

He knows immediately that he shouldn't have said that. He knows. But like many things, it seemed to slip out when it was most inconvenient. _Stupid Deku._ Stomach churning with nerves, Izuku sneaks a glance towards his brother, but Shouto keeps his gaze on the garden, deliberately ignoring his stare.

Izuku's mouth opens to reply -then stop when he takes in the way his brother's shoulders were slightly hunched, and his expression was tighter, less relaxed than before. More shielded. Less relaxed like he should be, on this rare time of peace.

 _Now's not the time._ Izuku decides. Accepting defeat, he tilts his head back and rests it on Shouto's legs.

As time passes, he feels Shouto relax back against him, the tension easing away for slumber. The cicadas continue singing. The summer sun bears down on Izuku's face and his eyelids flutter shut.

(It didn't feel as warm as before, though.)

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Izuku vividly remembers the first time his brother refused to use his left side.

How could he not?

That day, he'd thought the roof would collapse from the volume of his father's voice.

As the screams and yells rained down, he'd backed himself in a corner of the training room, fire sputtering and twisting nervously within himself, wanting to come out and engulf him in a protective shell.

Rarely he'd heard the man be so furious.

But much more than Endeavor's enraged yells, Izuku remembered the way his brother stood in front of their father, absolutely tiny in front of the mammoth of a man who was shouting and pointing at him. His face closed and blank, his eyes slightly narrowed. A stealthy, determined gleam inhabited them. A quiet strength that would not bend.

Izuku most of all remembered how fearlessly Shouto had replied:

"No."

That day was the second time their father raised a hand towards Shouto.

His brother had carried that black eye for the rest of the week, and the one after that. Izuku remembered hovering over him, hesitant to touch the bruises, murmuring quietly to his brother if it hurt _we should put cream on it let's ask Fuyumi-_

But Shouto had refused all of it. Calmly, with that ever-present stoicness that characterised his sibling since the day they'd met, he told Izuku that he wouldn't put anything over the bruise.

" _I want him to see it."_ He'd revealed to him with fervor in the quiet hours of the night, two days after the training session that had seen their father stomping out of the house. The purpling around his right eye nearly matched the scarring on his left. " _I want to remind him."_

(He never said it didn't hurt.)

It's not the last time it happens.

Still, Shouto gets up, again and again. Unbending, he looks at their father in the eyes and tells him _no, I will not_ , even as Endeavor looms over him, snarling like a beast, too lost in his rage to register what he's doing. Too caught up in what Izuku had long learned were bitter dreams and hopes of a man that tied to much to a numbered spot for so long that he'd lost sight of the meaning.

Eventually after two consecutive weeks of quiet, forceful _no_ , Endeavor relents.

To this day, Izuku isn't sure if he's amazed or horrified.

To deny a part of yourself like that -it was akin to cutting off a limb. Izuku didn't know if it was because of his own circumstances having to adjust part of his everyday routine to his demanding Quirk, but the first time he realized that Shouto quite clearly wanted to spend his entire life never using his fire it had made him feel sick. A rolling nausea that could only be compared to when his body ate itself in a attempt to feed Styxfire.

Trying to make his point to Shouto always earned him a dark stare, gritted teeth and a closed door. Nights spent alone in bed, in the dark, quietly attempting to sleep while he imagined Endeavor standing in the doorway or fire licking at his bed covers or Touya leaning over him, cold turquoise eyes free from their mask glaring down-

...those were restless nights.

Shouto always came back in the end. He forgave -in his own grumpy, sort of disgruntled way, like a cat returning home after their owner dropped them in a vat of water. Not in words, but as breakfast warmed up before Izuku got to the kitchen or a sweet fruit stolen from the pantry to share in the second bedroom or spreading burn cream on his blisters after training.

Given this, while Izuku felt horrified that his brother was walking down this path, he knew he had to fold. For all of his wishes that things were different, that he could get the older boy to change his mind, deep down he understood the bitter resolve that was spurning Shouto forward.

In a way, it was the same bitterness he'd seen in Touya's eyes two years ago.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

They're not normal children.

It's something they all know, deep down.

There's a invisible barrier between Izuku and Shouto Todoroki and their siblings; a understanding that keeps them at arm's length of each other. Fuyumi and Natsuo had their place in the family but with their father being who he was, there was simply a bigger importance placed on the two youngest -not that the only daughter and the second oldest son weren't important in their own right, but there was an expectation placed upon Izuku and Shouto that they did not bear.

And this split worked, somehow.

Izuku was a accident and Shouto was a carefully constructed masterpiece yet somehow, they clicked together like a puzzle. Two pieces that needed each other to stay in balance. Shouto's abrasive, confrontational nature -inherited from his father, no matter how much he denied it- was softened by Izuku's quiet, more calculative personality.

Together, they grew strong. Stronger than children their age had any right to be. Because at the age of nine, this was what Shouto could do:

He could make razor sharp spears of ice capable of impaling a fully grown person.

He could make a small glacier that overtook most of the garden.

He could turn a perfectly normal summer weather into a tiny snow day over their heads. It didn't last long, but it was enough to bury part of the Todoroki estate under in pile of snow.

He could encase himself in his Quirk, and come out with only a mild case of hypothermia.

Skating on ice was practically second nature to him; he took to it like a duck to water and no matter the shoes he wore, he never slipped.

During particularly hot days, he likes to use his ice to create slides, or make little baubles of ice to slip into their drinks.

When he was feeling particularly bored, he would spend his time making little sculptures of ice, which he left to melt and leave a sloppy mess where he believed the most likely for the Todoroki Patriarch to find. He'd long since perfected the art.

Todoroki Shouto was not the only one who'd grown and flourished over the years.

At the age of nine, this was what Todoroki Izuku could do:

He could set anything around ablaze with flames so dark they seemed to devour light, and reduce it to ashes in less time than it took you to blink. Even a graze could leave you with a nasty second degree burn. Full contact with the fire left the target as dust.

He could weave obsidian fire into great spheres of black and silver flames and launch them with moderate accuracy -and adjust their trajectory from a distance. It's not the only shape the lethal projectiles could take as the boy had taken a page out of his father's book; sometimes he formed instead sharpened spears that could cleave through several feet of thick cement.

He could step into the intense heat of his Quirk and come out unharmed, with only mild damage to his clothes. As of yet, there was nothing his flames could not consume.

Wood, glass, dirt, rock -anything and everything could be consumed.

It didn't mean his Quirk didn't look for other ways to recharge however. For example particularly cold days, Izuku liked to take a big wool blanket and huddle next to the fireplace in the family foyer. Sometimes he even curls up directly in it, limbs all tucked in and curled up in a little ball amongst the coals sapping the warmth and heat from the black flames like a lizard.

When he does that, there's little use trying to get him out of the foyer -even if he has a perfectly usable, bigger one built for this very same use. Trying to poke him awake with one of the iron pokers generally resulted with the flames reaching out and leaving the unfortunate Todoroki holding just a handle.

Trust everyone in the household. Beside Touya who couldn't even _bother_ sticking around, they'd all been through it at least once.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Not all times spent training were bad.

Sometimes Endeavor wasn't there to train them. Often enough, this due to work. There were cases that took him away from the Todoroki household for days, leaving the house empty of his overwhelming presence and sharp demands.

Those were the days Izuku's fingers _itched_ to write down notes and Styxfire squirmed in his gut, wiggling like a happy snake with the desire to pull things in, consume them and reassemble that material within its host in the metaphorical furnace that kept Izuku alive. Those were the times he was free to test, create and come up with new ways to use his fire that didn't require him directly using it on his targets.

Even after two years Styxfire had yet to not burn something beyond repair each time Izuku tried to use it offensively.

It's not like Izuku hadn't tried to find an solution to this, however.

No matter how hard he tried, he still wasn't able to replicate what he did that night, when he'd stood alongside Shouto and refused to back down. The Quirk Specialist -a middle aged man Izuku couldn't even pick the name out of a list even if he tried because it was just too long and _who even needed that many titles-_ told his father it was a matter of age, not power, and that his flames would stabilize as he matured.

Endeavor was having none of it, but what else was new.

Izuku was skeptic himself. He'd read extensively about it, but this 'maturing' effect applied to elemental Quirks, not...whatever he had. Because Styxfire was not a elemental Quirk. It was a emitter, but it wasn't an elemental Quirk like Shouto's or Endeavor's.

Elemental Quirks were classified by how they manifested non-organic things commonly found in nature -rocks, fire, water, air, plants- Styxfire didn't act like any of them, so despite its appearance similar to flames it could not be labelled as one. Not when it defied or blatantly broke most physics laws.

While daunting, Izuku was determined to make it work.

He couldn't train his Quirk like Shouto, but that didn't mean he couldn't push his Quirk to the limits using what he learned from his father. He just needed...practice. And experience.

But for now, lots of practice.

And paper.

And some imagination.

 _Special moves,_ Izuku had learned the name from his father. _Techniques improved and perfected over time, aimed for a specific goal. To rescue civilians, defeat villains or simply improve your standing in combat._

Unfortunately for him, the sheer lethalness of his Quirk for everyone -himself included- made it so he had to use a _lot_ of imagination to work around this problem. He practically had an entire notebook devoted to just his Quirk.

They're training out in the yard without supervision, sweat rolling down their backs and making their clothes stick to their skin when inspiration finally strikes Izuku like a bolt of lightning. His mouth moves before the thought fully forms:

"Think I can fly?"

Shouto turns to him, eyebrow raised. The sharp-ridged ice formation he was practicing forming in quick burst gleamed under the sunlight behind him like a giant, unpolished diamond. There's a thin sheen of ice on the unscarred side of his brother's face. It shimmers like polished glass.

Quirk Strain. It makes Izuku's heart squeeze. He hated the strange, jealous feeling in his gut that came alongside it. His brother was lucky….how could he not see it?

 _Would it kill you to at least use it so you don't get hypothermia?_

"What?" Shouto's voice drags him back to the present.

"With fire." Izuku explains softly, mind returning to his idea as he squints down at his hands. "Do you think I can launch myself in the air, like father does when he chases villains?"

There's a nonvocal grunt of disapproval in response. Izuku fails to hide his wince at it. Right. Despite this, he continues, too energized by this new idea:

"I think I might be able to do it. O-or something like it. I could propel myself as if I have a jetpack!" The more he thought about it, the better it sounded in his head.

Shouto's responding _maybe_ was a wonderful contribution to the conversation. Oh well.

While his older sibling categorically refused to, Izuku watched a lot of Endeavor's fights on the news. Given the sheer amount of them though, he only noted down the ones which seemed worthwhile enough -most importantly when his father used a interesting looking technique.

As much as he wished his sibling would join him, trying to get Shouto to sit on the couch alongside him while he studied the clips was a good way of getting a cold shoulder.

Sometimes, literally.

Thankfully, he would always return to his brother's good side with video clips of All Might. Fuyumi let them borrow her laptop half the time, so he had next to no issue digging up his favorite videos of the Number One Hero to show them to Shouto, who might not voice his happiness out loud but his eyes did this slight widening that made him look like an owl and that told Izuku that it was a job well done.

Using his flames as _propulsion_ instead of using them directly was something he hadn't really considered, given that most of his training focused on manipulating his flames across the surrounding environment and trying and failing, quite spectacularly, at not burning things to ashes.

After two years, that was still his main obstacle.

A practically insurmountable wall he had been all but repeatedly bashing his head against.

At least, that's how it felt.

 _Get the temperature down,_ his father had gruffly told him once while they watched his fire gnaw on the remains of a target mannequin. _Then I can teach you more._

 _Good advice there, dad._ Izuku thinks sourly as he observes Shouto near effortlessly reform his small glacier, the sharp spikes arching up towards the sky softening into a flatter construct. It's a slide.

Was his brother training his mobility today?

Izuku looks down at his hands, watching the tiny black flames dancing in his palms. Testing, he make the fire in his right hand blace higher. Not enough to create a blaze, but just enough that there's some pushback, forcing his hand lower.

 _Okay, so it checks out._ If he learned how to direct the flames, maybe he could apply this into something useful...

"...I can control the flames even after they leave my body, so I could use them as bursts to keep myself in the air. Maybe -like a rocket?" He mumbles under his breath. Flexing his hands, he reaches within himself to check on his reserves. Not even halfway down.

Good.

He could do this.

It shouldn't leave him passed out on the floor.

Worse case scenario, his brother leaves his smoking carcass in the sun to recharge.

Silver-black sparks burst from his fingertips as he snaps them together. Styxfire squirms under his skin, reaching curiosity. Izuku didn't have anything to feed his Quirk with him at the moment, so it would have to draw from his reserves.

Even after years had passed, he still feels unsettled by the hollowing sensation that came with using his Quirk in mass. Hopefully this time would not be one, the last batch of white coal Endeavor bought him was nearly halfway done already. The again who cared, his father had plenty of money to throw around and it wasn't like it was Izuku's fault that his Quirk was a mess-

 _Focus, nerd._

(Overtime he'd forgotten the blonde's voice, but he if he close his eyes and tries enough, he can imagine burning red eyes and a sharp-toothed grin.)

As if he had a sixth sense for him about to do something reckless, Shouto pauses in his ice-sculpting and turns to him. The ice on his skin is more pronounced. There's even mist when he speaks:

"What are you doing."

"Something." Izuku bends his knees and places his hands behind him. Styxfire dances around his palms, black and purple with only the faintest sparks of silver. Wait. He might fall over if he just does it like this. Izuku widens his stance for better footing. He aims away from the house and towards the garden -let it be at least a month since he last set the house on fire, _please_.

Shouto's voice barely cuts through the storm of thoughts swirling around Izuku's brain. "You're going to get yourself hurt."

Half indignant, half touched, Izuku tilts his head to the side to peer at his sibling.

"I know what I'm doing, oniisan." Izuku reassures him, taking several sharp breaths as he prepared himself. Shouto continued to look at him through half-lidded eyes, his expression not unlike the one he wore when Izuku decided that climbing onto the kitchen to reach the cabinet was a good idea.

In his defence, he only fell _once_.

And Natsuo caught him, so it wasn't like he got hurt.

"Just watch this!"

Unfortunately, Izuku overestimates how much he needs to take off the ground -because next thing he knows, he's launched straight into the koi pond.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Half a hour later Izuku pokes at his bruises with a frown, hissing at the twinge of pain that came from the blooming red marks. God, even his back hurt, and he landed face first in the water. He was definitely was going to be black and blue by the time he went to sleep tonight.

Likely, it was going to be even worse tomorrow.

Training was going to be a pain in the next few days. Endeavor never let something as measly as _bruises_ get in the way of work. The only time they were allowed to skip training was if they were sick or limping.

No exceptions.

Not feeling like it was not an excuse in this house.

Discreetly, Izuku sneaks a glance towards his sibling a few feet away. Shouto was sitting by the porch, the bottom of his pants still drying from when he'd fished his dazed sibling out of the water to keep him from drowning. A platter rests next to him, carrying a jug of cold tea and two glasses in which he'd served some of the amber drink.

Izuku watches as slim fingers gently circle around the rim of the glasses, ice forming on the surface and solidifying into small transparent spheres. There's even snowflake in them.

Izuku smiles, fond.

His brother always enjoyed creating small figures with his ice side. Few were the times he used his dual Quirk outside of training, and every moment was a sight to behold. Summer was a breeze when you had what essentially was a portable air conditioner as a sibling.

Too bad it wasn't as easy during winter.

Izuku squashes that familiar train of thought before it went anywhere. It was worthless to contemplate Shouto's choice at this moment. He already spent too much time trying to see his brother what he was doing was hurtful.

He had to focus on his own Quirk.

Which reminded him…

Taking his eyes off his brother, Izuku turns to the rest of the yard. There was a very small crater where he'd launched himself. Parts of the sandy gravel had turned into swirling black glass and it was still smoking. Izuku winces internally at the damage. It could be worse given how his Quirk acted on anything that wasn't him, but it was still a sufficiently large enough hole that his father was going to chew him out when he got home from work.

He halfheartedly pokes at a crumbled pebble with the tip his left shoe. It's already fragile structure compromised, it falls apart at the touch.

 _But it really could have been worse..._

Green eyes shift to the koi pond. The water was almost clear again, showing the big rocks at the bottom.

 _A lot worse..._

There was something nagging him about his wounds. He eyes the bigger, sharper rocks at the shallow end of the pond, where he had landed. The koi were all huddled on the other side of the tiny lake, still scared by the splash he'd made.

 _Definitively should have broken a bone or twisted something,_ Izuku thinks as he rolls his shoulders. The muscles ache, but it's nothing compared to the pain he should be in. He'd been thrown across the dojo by his father more than enough times to be familiar with this kind of damage. _This doesn't add up._

Adding to this mystery, his Quirk reserves felt emptier than before. Like a large chunk had been used at once, or as if someone had reached in and siphoned away a sizable section. It's a uncomfortable feeling, and not one Izuku was used to -though it was faintly familiar.

In fact, it almost felt like-

 _That night._

Izuku hates the way his throat tightened at the memory. He takes a wavering but deep breath, trying to ease his nerves as he looks down to his hands. Could this be the answer he was looking for? Did he finally have an answer for what he'd done that night?

(But why now?)

Maybe he needed to have his reserves filled above a certain level to trigger it, alongside the emotional distress? They'd grown larger over the years and would likely be even bigger by the time he was of age to join Yuuei. Could that be the issue keeping him from using his Quirk to its full potential -and do something else than just set his training tools to ash and earn reproaches from his father?

But how could he replicate the trigger-

...wait.

(At the back of his head, there's a very tiny voice telling him he was going to regret this.)

"Oniisan." Izuku pauses as he calls out to his brother, who turns to him questioningly from where he'd been drinking some iced water on the patio. The other boy sets his drink down and ambles over, curious but silent. Izuku eyes the swimming koi, already mentally apologizing to them for the mental trauma he was about to put them through. Again. "I need to test something out."

He'll give them extra feed tomorrow morning.

The gardener certainly wasn't going to judge.

Hopefully.

"Throw me into the pond."

Shouto promptly sends him flying with a burst of ice.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Fuyumi has to get the gardener to drive him to the hospital for the broken arm.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Later, as he sits in bed doped up on medication, arm tender and ears still ringing from Endeavor's tongue lashing after the man came home only to rush to the nearby hospital to fill his release forms, Izuku pokes at the limb with pinched lips. The white cast feels hard and rough under his fingers. It's heavy too, looking almost enormous next to the rest of his body. Big, clunky and in the way.

He hates it.

He knows that it's going to be there just for a few days, but it didn't stop him from feeling vindictive. If it didn't keep his arm from flopping around like a wet noodle, he would have burned it off his limb already.

The sound of his bedroom door opening snaps him out of his thoughts. Twisting his neck towards the source of the noise, he spots through blurry eyes a weird blob with a splatter of white and red on top. There's no mistaking that particular mop of hair.

When his eyes finally adjust and he's able to see more clearly, Izuku can only wilt under his sibling's deadpan stare.

"You're mad at me."

"No." A pause. Then, flatter than ever. "You could have done that better."

At that moment, Izuku wants to duck under the blankets and just hide from that scrutinizing gaze. Shouto didn't even need to glare to get his point across.

The shame feels almost painful in his belly, a tight burn that had nothing to do with Styxfire.

"I'm sorry." Izuku mutters, tucking his head low to the point the blanket rose up over his nose. He looks at his brother with watery eyes. "I'm sorry Shouto, I shouldn't have told you to do that. You don't have to apologize-"

"I don't feel bad. It was your fault." Shouto said stoically, but by the slight crinkle of his nose, Izuku knew it was a half-lie. His older brother most often than not considered him to be his responsibility and while this worked both ways, the older boy was especially protective. "I just did what you asked. You would have done it yourself otherwise."

Izuku swallows.

"...right."

Silence.

Then:

"You're still a idiot."

Izuku groans and pulls the blanket over his head, signaling that the conversation was over.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

For all his talk and bite, Shouto still sneaks him some fruit from the kitchen after hours as an apology. They're not allowed sweets in the house, but it tastes just as good if not better with his brother curled up at his side.

After a few years, it felt like this is where he belonged.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Three days later the cast is removed -thanks to the wonders of healing Quirks and deep, deep pockets- and Izuku is eager to jump right back into it.

His siblings are a bit more reluctant.

At least, Natsuo and Fuyumi are.

Shouto just follows after him, ready to help. Or to catch him. Or maybe to stop him from breaking another limb.

Either way, his presence was very much welcomed.

His neatly hidden worry didn't mean he was feeling Izuku's excitement. Worrying was part of his nature even if he didn't show it. Shouto, Izuku found, had his own brand of worrying, which translated to silently observing his every move for the next few days, following him around as if he expected Izuku to do something reckless again.

(Case in point, his current situation.)

Izuku was faintly aware how their definition of reckless might stray from what a normal person would define it. The training their father puts them through nearly every day had made sure of that. Bruises and twisted ankles were only temporary wounds -things to learn from. Physical pain such as that would no break them.

Over the years, they'd learned knew what each other could take.

 _Unhealthy,_ Natsuo had once called it.

 _Hey, it works,_ Izuku replied.

"Okay, let's try again."

Standing back straight and resolute in front of his brother, Izuku turns to his sibling, planting his feet wide on the ground and extending his arms on either side like a human-shaped starfish. He stands like this in the middle of the hallway to the dojo, defiant and very determined.

He wouldn't allow himself to fail another time.

"Hit me."

Shouto just _looks_ at him. He's not outright walking out of this situation, but he looks close to.

"I know what I'm doing." More judgemental squinting. Clearly, his brother had fine tuned the art of making expressions without actually doing so. Izuku clears his throat, gathering up his courage before the flat stare made him fold. It wouldn't be the first time. "I want to test it out! Imagine if I can actually solidify my flames!"

 _I'll actually be useful for once!_

His brother, however, doesn't seem to be sharing his enthusiasm. His brows furrow and his nose crinkles slightly in such a way that in Shouto-speak, meant that the other boy was glaring while trying to maintain his calm, almost serene facade.

Izuku switches tactics.

"Shoutooo." He drags out the last sound, just the way it never fails to make his brother's crinkled nose deepen.

"Hm."

"Look," Izuku starts, lowering his arms. "I know what I'm going for now. My reserves are full, I had my naps and I already ate. I'm good to go!"

Shouto remains unimpressed. "Congratulations on passing the bar to be a functioning human being."

 _Ow._ While that hurt, it was good to know that his brother was just as fond as he was of learning new words. The time spent reading together in the library was paying off -just not in Izuku's favor. Not today.

"But Shou-"

"No." His brother starts with finally, shutting him up. "I'm not letting you break another limb."

"Alright, fine." Izuku grumbles back, frustrated. Time to switch tactics -again. "I'll find another way then. There's a ladder by the shed, I can use that to get to the roof and-"

He falls silent at the glowering, withering look the taller boy gave him. Shouto uncrosses his arms.

"Fine."

Izuku carefully stops himself from cheering, knowing it was the fastest way to get his feet frozen to the ground. Instead, he smiled meerily at his brother and extended his arms up, resuming that stretched out starfish position.

Styxfire crackles against his skin, awake and aware, sparking silver and black around Izuku. If some edges of his clothes lost some color as a result of the threads reacting to the heat, neither of the Todoroki siblings commented on it.

Seemingly reassured at the sight of his sibling's Quirk, Shouto shifts his position and planted his feet a little wider. His expression smoothed out to something darker, more focused.

(At that moment, neither child spared a thought for the current location of their little exercise. While it normally bothered Izuku -because he was a normal, well-behaved child and not a feral little devil like his older brother who left chunks of ice absolutely _**everywhere-**_ it didn't matter at this moment to him how much damage they caused to the property, so caught up he was in the excitement of finally finding a non-lethal use for his Quirk.

Besides, Endeavor had plenty of funds to cover the costs of repairs.)

"C'mon!" Izuku exclaims, gathering his courage as he focused into stirring Styxfire up into a carefully controlled frenzy. "Throw something at me!"

Shouto, predictably, picks up the nearest priciest object and lobs it at him.

This was his moment. Izuku's eyes squeeze shut and he _pulls_ , as hard as he can, as hard as he can go before the nausea sets in. Digs his hands into the warm fire in his heart and feeds it with a sizable chunk of his reserves, lighting up the bonfire within himself with gasoline.

Styxfire answers his call almost greedily.

It's different this time. Heavier. He needs more.

Instantly, Izuku knows he succeeded.

He feels the intricate vase shatters against his chest with a loud crash. The blow is enough to send him stumbling back, blinking rapidly. He has to gasp for air, winded by the blow. But at the same time-

 _It didn't hurt._

Both siblings look down.

No wounds. Broken porcelain and ash sat at Izuku's feet, a million of tiny little pieces he barely registers next to the thick, black glass-like mass swirling over his skin and clothes, interwoven plating he'd only seen once before. At the sight, Izuku can't stop the giddy smile from spreading across his lips even if he tried.

Finally, he'd figured it out!

The loud cry of victory that leaves him is loud enough to make his brother jolt, but Izuku doesn't care. He's this close to dancing over the ashes of the vase like some kind of demented demon.

Izuku's body was filled with excitement unlike no other the longer he peered down at the remains of the decoration. This was just _perfect_. If he figured out propulsion with his fire as well, he would finally be able to work on something else than shaping his flames!

No more chastising from his father, no more standing in the sidelines while Shouto fought his father with his ice. He'd be able to do something with his Quirk, something meaningful that didn't result in just more piles of ash and disappointment.

 _ **(He could be a hero.)**_

Exhilarated, Izuku looks up to meet his brother's gaze.

"I did it." He exclaims, breathless and giddy. "Shouto, _I did it."_

 _I'm not useless._

 _I can_ _ **protect**_ _people._

Shouto falters for the briefest of moments at the vulnerable tone but then he slowly smiles back. The nose crinkle returns, but it's different from before. Combined with the upward twist of his lips, it's the equivalent of a silent congratulation from the dual haired boy.

"Yes," his brother begins, slowly. Eyes flicking between the pieces of porcelain at Izuku's feet to his face. "...you did."

His arms twitch at his sides, jerking up slightly as to draw him in. Seeing the silent invitation, Izuku dispells his Quirk and wastes no time rushing over, wrapping himself around his brother like a koala. Giggling into mismatched hair as he curls his arms around the taller boy's neck, gasping and laughing breathlessly in relief.

"I did it. _I did it!"_

The cry that leaves him might as well have woken up the rest of the household. They're lucky their father wasn't home and Fuyumi and Natsuo were at school.

Slowly at first, Shouto wraps his arms around his middle and tucks him close, huffing out a silent laugh into Izuku's shoulder. His quiet approval makes the flames in his younger brother's chest flutter and twist, warm and cozy with shared body heat.

To an observer's eyes, this didn't seem like much. Two years of training, of maturing his Quirk, leading up to this -a few broken pieces of porcelain and two embracing siblings? It seemed almost insignificant in the grand scheme of things.

It was just the start.

But it was _something_.

And Izuku could work with that.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

It's only after they finish hugging that they realize what time it is, and have to scramble to get to sweep the broken vase up before their father arrives.

Unsurprisingly but still nevertheless relieving, Endeavor fails to notice the missing decoration.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Unsurprisingly, Todoroki Enji _did_ however notice the giant holes that were starting to dot the garden, and he was quick to turn to the only other person in the household that had such a destructive Quirk. Shouto didn't really count in this matter as despite having a powerful Quirk Izuku's youngest brother rarely ever used his powers on a day to day basis. Plus, the melted ice made it really easy to know who was to blame.

In a similar vein, the minefield that was starting to take over the garden really left one culprit amongst the Todoroki clan.

As such, Izuku's not really surprised when his father gets home, takes one look the massive smoking holes his last attempt at flying had created and promptly drags him to the garden by the arm, expression dark and faintly murderous.

"What is this?!" Endeavor all but bellows down at him, flames flaring around his head like a crown. He's still in his hero costume, fresh out of work and from his behavior, it hadn't been a good day.

From the corner of his vision, Izuku spies Shouto watching from the patio, a silent shadow bearing narrowed eyes and clenched fists. Ready to jump in if need be.

(It was never necessary, but the gesture was bitterly comforting.)

He hopes they won't fight. He's tired of seeing them screaming at each other.

" _Izuku."_

Right.

He was in the middle of something.

"Training." Izuku murmurs, straightening his back and trying, clumsily, to keep his gaze fixed on his father's own blue eyes. Staring at the ground and shying away from the man had always resulted in more scolding. "I was training and it got a bit out of control. I apologize, sir."

In response his father just slowly turns to look back at the garden; most of the clearing looked like it had been bombed, then had a few more dropped afterwards. Izuku could almost feel the incredulousness coming off the pro-hero as he took in his absolutely devastated grounds.

Izuku can only look down and count his toes in silence -he didn't even have the time to put on shoes- as time stretches on. Embarrassment makes his cheeks hot.

"...have you at _least_ learned something useful?" His father finally speaks up, voice cool and impassive. If it wasn't for the angry flaring of the crown of flames around his head, Izuku would think the man was calm.

"Y-yes?" Blue eyes flicked down at him, pinning him in place with a glare. Izuku gulped and jolted up, straightening his spine. "Yes." He repeats, firmer.

Endeavor's eyes narrow.

"Show me."

 _Crap._

As he takes a few steps away from his father and widens his stance just like he's been training to do, Izuku silently tries not to panic. _I can do this. I just have to show him what I've learned. What I can do._

 _I just need to do my best._

His mind races, remembering back to the strips of video he spent most of his free time investigating and noting down what he thought would be useful. Hero fights, mainly of his father but sometimes about other elemental-type Quirk users.

While Izuku knew his Quirk could not classify as a elemental Quirk -especially with the solidifying aspect of his flames, would that mean it was some kind of energy manipulation Quirk was it because of his mother _crap he was overthinking again-_

Nervous and off-balance from the weight of his father's eyes on his back, he spread his fingers and calls Styxfire into being.

Next thing he knows, there's a loud _boom_ and he's face down on the ground.

Too much.

 _Dammit._ Groaning softly, he tilts his head up. Dirt and gravel falls from his hair with the movement.

The sight he is greeted with is not welcoming. Endeavor was watching him eat the floor with crossed arms and sharp eyes. The unimpressed expression makes Izuku wilt like a plant in the desert, though there was something in those eyes that gave him just the slightest bit of hope that he wasn't acting like a complete and utter failure in front of Endeavor.

He can't help but duck his eyes down, ashamed.

So much for making him p-

"Widen your legs."

Izuku's head rises up so quickly he nearly gives himself whiplash. "Huh?"

"Your legs." Endeavor repeats through gritted teeth, unimpressed. He jabs a finger towards Izuku's wobbly, knee-scraped legs. If he notices the scrapes, bruises and cuts as a result of the rough ground against the boy's skin, he makes no comment on it. "Widen your stance more. Bend your knees and be more direct with the stream of your fire."

 _He's giving me advice._

"O-oh."

"Get to it."

"Right. Sorry sir."

He does as he's told. Bends his knees, lowers his back forward a bit. Keep his arms extended behind him. Izuku tries to not let his apprehension show as Endeavor circles around him, eyes roving up and down his body in search of something to scold him over.

The pro-hero was exceptionally good at that.

"Narrow your flames, you're spreading them too much." His father instructs gruffly, arms crossing as he peers over his form. "Try again."

And so Izuku does.

And so he eats dirt with a burst of flames, again. As he pulls himself up, body aching, Endeavor walks over and pushes his legs further apart with a nudge of his feet, then taps his left wrist sharply with a single, large finger to make him lift it higher.

"Again."

Styxfire roars out of his hands, streams of black, purple and silver carving strips out of the ground. Izuku's arms jolt and his joints throb from the force of which he's sent sailing a few feet up in the air. It's not high enough to put him in danger of another broken limb, but it's enough to make him falter.

 _Too much!_ He quickly tries to twist in the air, hands reaching forward to use Styxfire to stabilize himself-

Unfortunately his panic, enhanced by the fact his father was watching, makes him once more expel far more fire than initially needed and he can only let out a choked off yelp as his back slams into the ground. It's enough to knock the wind out of him and leave Izuku spread like a starfish on the garden floor, breathless.

" _Enough."_ Izuku flinches at the harsh tone above him. He painstakingly pulls himself up, wincing at how Endeavor was looking down at him, piercing blue eyes dark with dissatisfaction. "You're wasting time." _My time,_ Izuku corrects for he has no doubt that that was what his father really meant. "You'll work on this during training. Stop destroying my property, boy."

At that moment, Izuku wants to duck his head low in shame. He barely fights back the urge. "Yes sir."

His father lets out a low exhale. It's not a sigh -more of a huff, and no less depressing for Izuku to hear.

"Dismissed."

 _There is was._

Any other time, Izuku would let him walk away, as his father was doing now. Let him go, bring up the subject of his solidified flames during their next training session.

Not now though.

Motivated by some unseen source of courage, he calls out to his father's retreating back.

"W-wait!"

Endeavor pauses at the stuttered cry. Slowly he turns around, one eyebrow quirked questioningly. Izuku instinctively hunches his shoulders under the weight of the Number Two hero's gaze.

"What is it?" Inpatient, but somewhat tame. _At least he's not yelling at me._

That was a good sign. His father might not be impressed by his performance, but it wasn't to the point of yelling at him for utterly wasting the garden. Izuku quietly wondered if the man would cheer if Shouto set it all on fire. Given how things were, he likely would.

Feeling jittery wasn't a unfamiliar feeling to Izuku, but it still made him stumble as he spoke softly;

"There's...there's something else." The youngest Todoroki takes a deep breath, then looks at his father in the eyes. "I managed to work out another part of my Quirk. That I c-couldn't really do before."

"...well?"

 _It's now or never._

Izuku takes the leap of faith and instead of answering, he reaches inside himself and coaxes the fire out.

Black flames unfurl around him, swirling to gather in front of his body. With gentle, if not wavering guidance, they slowly lose the familiar shape of fire and curl into itself as a mass. Familiar silver flickers amongst the obsidian depths of Styxfire, stronger now with how much energy Izuku pours into them.

He watches as his father's expression slowly shifts at the sight, the man's mind no doubt looking back at the last time Izuku managed to conjure his Quirk in such a way.

Then Izuku sees finally sees it in his father's eyes _-interest._

"It seems like I will have to adjust your training."

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

He eats dirt more than once during the first week of the new training regime.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Izuku grumbles as he shoved another apple slice into his mouth, chewing almost grumpily as he reaches for his next one. At the sound of loud chewing, Shouto looks up from his perch by his fire to glower at him from over his mathematics book.

Despite his obvious distaste his brother says nothing, and as such Izuku continues his miniature tantrum because if there is one thing he learned from his sibling, it was the art of passive aggression.

Izuku knows it's not very mature of him, but at the moment he's too cranky to regulate himself. There's a gnawing pit in his belly, one that no amount of simply sitting in a bonfire could help -thus, apples. Eating was another way for Styxfire to gain energy. Unfortunately for his Quirk, Izuku also needed his stomach for other reasons. Namely, feeding himself.

Styxfire didn't seem to agree, hence the need to shovel food in his mouth.

Even after several months of having discovered this part of his Quirk, he was still fascinated by this development. How did it work, exactly? There was a distinctive feeling in his gut that reminded him of the times he used his Quirk, so maybe it manifested inside his body and consumed what he ingested from within his stomach?

Would he be able to breathe fire, at least technically if he learned to redirect the black flames out? Would it make it harder or easier to aim, or would it aid in close quarter combat?

Would that feel like throwing up?

(He really had to stop getting off track, didn't he.)

As he loves his eyes over his latest iteration of his letter, Izuku wiggles his toes into the ash of his firepit. He's sitting halfway out of the black flames, legs dipped into the fire like someone would dip their feet into a pool during a particularly hot summer day.

He hovers his pen over the paper, mulling what he should write next.

There was a lot he wanted to ask his mother.

(Too much to be contained to a piece of paper.)

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

"Damn it boy!"

Izuku squeezed his eyes shut at the resounding thud that echoed through the dojo when his brother fell over. Headfirst into the tatami matt, the older boy failed to pick himself up right away as he always did; instead he lies there, momentarily stunned by the blow to his shoulder he'd failed to dodge on time.

Their father raises his left hand, halting the training. Joints aching, head throbbing, Izuku stands up shakily from where he'd been sent flying by a sweeping kick that had nailed him straight in the chest. He'd only just started to learn how to shield himself with his Quirk, so Styxfire was no match against Endeavor's raw strength.

It will, one day. Izuku would make sure of that. But for now, he was trying real hard to keep himself from vomiting his merger dinner.

Shouto had no such issue. Izuku eyes him from the corner of his vision as the boy draws himself up with grace or confidence he could not hope to match, and offer their exasperated father a sharp, poignant look of defiance.

Endeavor's nostrils flared.

God, it looked like it was going to be one of _those_ days.

When their father's frustration reached a boiling point, bright hot fury overtaking his body and turned the already intimidating man into something twisted and angry.

"Stop playing around and _use your fire!"_

Shouto peers up at his father, eyes dark as he states plainly, as calmly as if he was discussing the weather, "No."

The sigh their father lets out is both frustrated and resigned.

"Is this what you want? To fail?" Endeavor rumbles, expression twisting in a furious scowl. "If you don't give it your all, boy, you'll never get to Yuuei. You cannot succeed if you don't put any effort into your future?"

Shouto's response is faster than a viper's bite. "And what does an old man like you know about success?"

Silence.

Izuku barely dares to breathe.

Endeavor's nostrils flare. Hellfire swirls angrily across his face, the mane of flames spreading. The neckline of his workout clothes was darkened by the heat he failed to regulate. It's a rare instance for his father's Quirk to slip out of control, and the sight makes Izuku's throat tighten with something wet and uncomfortable.

"What did you just say to me?"

It's that tone.

He should intervene.

He should.

The realization sits ugly in Izuku's belly. Shouto had, last time. His brother protected him, so he should protect him back. That's how it worked.

(Then why wasn't he doing that, right now?)

But he's stuck in place like a fool, unable to do anything but watch. Even the noise that leaves his lips is wavering and weak, reflecting his reluctance to interfere. "Shouto…"

What meager attempt at resolution he tried to utter was silenced by his sibling's voice filling the room, silencing him:

"Are your ears not working well?" Shouto replies over the quivering call of his name, his tone every inch as fiery as the flames Izuku hadn't glimpsed in years. "Your age must be catching up to you. Maybe that fire will go out next?"

Endeavor bristles, taking a step forward. "How dare you-"

"Oh I dare, you washed up old man."

Izuku wants to run for cover, he was so mortified. This wasn't like before. By the rate his brother was going, Shouto was digging his _grave_. With all the yelling and snapping back, his brother was becoming too much like Natsuo.

...or maybe…

He doesn't like the feeling growing in his gut when he sneaks a glance at Shouto. His eyes are dark and stormy as he glared up at their father, a tiny David standing his ground to the fuming Goliath. There's something else there in his mismatched eyes, especially in his single blue one. Something Izuku had glimpsed before.

Frustrated, bitter anger.

Poison, a wound that slowly feastered and grew rotten, infecting the rest of the individual.

Izuku has to suppress a shudder.

The very idea of Shouto having eyes like Touya was sickening.

Izuku knew right there and then that he had to interfere, regardless of what he thought or what his father would do in retaliation. He'd never raised his Quirk against his father, not since that night, but he could still do something...right? He had to step in. Not with his Quirk, but at least do something, anything to disarm the tense situation-

"I'm only trying to make you use your full potential!"

There's a answering snarl.

"I'm doing just _fine_ with my right side!"

"That's not good enough!" Father roared back with just as much bite. "You'll never get anywhere near the top twenty rankings if you only put half your power to use!"

"Who cares about _rankings_?!"

The furious snarl Endeavor lets out makes the decision for him. A part of Izuku hesitates at interfering, but he cannot fight it anymore.

"Please," He begs, voice louder, sharper. Demanding more attention. "...please just stop _yelling-"_

" _ **Be quiet!"**_

Dual screams of anger, both equally as loud and vicious. The booming cries are followed by resounding silence.

Izuku's brain goes blank. Gaping like a fish, heart thundering in his chest; his flames shrink within their cage of ribs like a scared puppy.

Shouto stood wide-eyed under their father's shadow, looking at Izuku like he'd just been punched. Izuku can see the slow growing horror in his eyes. The understanding of what he's done -to whom he'd just yelled at.

Izuku's thought process starts up again, but it's a slow, broken, stuttering machine. _Shouto never yells never why would he do that-?_

Green eyes slowly lift to the tallest individual in the room. Even Endeavor looked surprised by Shouto's exclamation. It's the first time Izuku can read his emotions so easily, and he hates it. He hates the fact this was the situation his father let his face betray what he truly, fully felt.

It makes something burn inside his chest.

 _He can't be here._

Izuku spins around and runs. He's out the dojo door before Shouto suddenly calls out, voice choked:

"Izu-!"

Said Todoroki keeps running, not even bothering to try quietening his footsteps as he barrels down the hall. The living quarters are completely bypassed, as is the living room and the kitchen.

The front door is heaved open and Izuku leaps into the dark, cold autumn night. The garden is quiet and still when he runs through the gravel path leading to the back of the Todoroki estate.

(If there's smoke coming from his feet with each footstep, he ignores it.)

There's no lock on the firehouse's door. Izuku pries it open and steps inside, shaking from every limb. His stomach was twisting, a sensation that was sharp and cold and almost nauseating with it's intensity. It takes all of his concentration to keep himself from falling over as he stumbles to the firepit.

Thankfully there's still some coal leftover from yesterday, so the only thing Izuku needs to do is fall forward and sink into the bed of ash.

Black flames immediately spring up around him, curling and protective. Flicking and twisting, the long tongue of obsidian energy looking as if on the verge of sharpening into solid spikes. Izuku can feel the drain on his reserves but he doesn't even try to reign his Quirk in.

It feels safer, to be wrapped in fire that took and took and left nothing behind but Izuku himself.

...and his thoughts.

Shouto hadn't really meant it. He couldn't have. A-and it wasn't that bad, was it? It was just a yell.

Nothing to be dramatic over.

Nothing to run away over.

 _(Why did you, then?)_

Izuku knew deep down, what the answer to that question was. Shouto had sounded just like their father. During a fraction of a second, his youngest sibling had sounded just as angry and loud and _furious_ as him. And the look in his eyes -the poison was still there.

Feastering.

The thought makes him let out a punched out sob and flip over to his side, smushing the side of his face into the ash. It's not as comforting as it should be, the warmth Styxfire greedily takes in refusing to ease the pain in his heart.

 _He's going to be like Touya._

 _Angry and resentful, just like him._

 _Just like Endeavor._

He couldn't stop this, could he-

The sound of wood creaking makes Izuku's eyes snap open. Someone was entering the firehouse.

Heart pounding, Izuku tried to keep himself composed as green eyes peer from through the flames, quickly spotting the mass of white and red atop of the figure shyly standing in front of the firepit. Not close enough to be burned, but enough that Izuku could see their face.

It's Shouto.

Red, wet eyes meet his own, uncharacteristically open and fragile.

"Izuku."

The black flames shudder around him. Said boy slowly rises to sit on the coals, never taking his eyes off his sibling. Shouto was shifitng on his feet, uncomfortable. Head tucked low and lips pressed thin.

It's the most vulnerable Izuku had seen him be.

At least, at least not since-

' _Where are you taking him?!'_

' _Shouto. Go to sleep, now.'_

The fire quietens, then slowly dies. Izuku watches as his brother's expression breaks even further, the vulnerability in his eyes mixing with such hope that he knows that he's doing the right choice -that this is what needed to be done.

Sniffing, he pulls Shouto in.

The other boy follows willingly, something akin to desperation shining in his eyes as he crawls into the bed of still-warm coals alongside Izuku. There's ash smearing all over Shouto's clothes, the light grey coals had to be digging uncomfortably into his skin, but his older brother made no move to show the discomfort he was likely feeling.

Instead he flops down half atop of Izuku, arms curling around his body and pulling him tight against him as their legs tangled together. Wrapping himself like a octopus around his sibling, as if he expected him to vanish.

Shouto's nose is tucked into his neck, his normally chilly breath warmer than usual, a dry burn that betraying how hard his sibling was trying to reign in his Quirk. Any more and his brother would start smoking, Izuku was sure of it.

"I don't want to be like him."

It's whispered quietly against his shoulder, like a secret. Izuku squeezes him tighter, his mind unwillingly calling back to Fuyumi's shy introduction during his first week in the Todoroki household. Her tiny smile and furtive eyes.

(It shouldn't be a secret. What they felt should _never_ be bit down and kept a secret _and yet-)_

There's a lot to unpack in Shouto's words.

 _I don't want to be his legacy._

 _I don't want to be a reflection of his image._

 _I don't want to fulfill his dreams._

Izuku's heart breaks all over again. He feels wetness dripping down his cheeks.

Because if his health and stability were what it took to enrage his father, Shouto would sacrifice them in a instant. Izuku knew him too well at this point to believe otherwise. His brother would destroy himself before he gave Endeavor the satisfaction to see him rise to the Number One spot, ice in his left hand and fire in his right.

Knowing this, Izuku clutches him even tighter against his chest, wishing his fire could wrap around them both protectively.

Maybe then he could show his brother how lucky he was.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Not before long cold sweeps across the Todoroki estate and this time, it's not Shouto's doing.

In the garden, the tree branches grow dangerously heavy with snow, and the paths need to be treated with salt constantly to prevent ice from forming. The dark brown roof gathers large mounds of white, and the grass is banished under a layer of snow.

With the garden now cold and still, Izuku and Shouto found other ways to entertain themselves. Confined inside, they spend most of their free time sitting by the windows, drinking near scalding tea and quietly reading to each other books they raided from the estate's library.

If Shouto sticks even closer than before, following him like a silent shadow, Izuku never comments on it.

He'd do the same if their roles were reversed.

(Endeavor really never did scold them for running out on training that day.)

When autumn rolled around, Izuku found himself having to help the gardener catch all of the koi. They could not stay there with the encroaching winter and so, they had to be caught with little nets as carefully as possible to keep them relaxed to be shipped out. As if knowing of their fate, the slippery little animals fought like little monsters as they were loaded into the containers for transport.

While Shouto prefered not getting involved, his brother was more hands on.

Under the supervision of the gardener, Izuku quickly learned to stick to catching the smaller, younger fish. Trying to gently catch a massive white koi half his size that stubbornly refused to get in the stupid net was a good way to end up flat on his back, legs in the air, clothes wet and heavy and a mouthful of slimy water as a reward.

Not having to take care of the fishes left Izuku with a big gap in his schedule. Tending to the koi had become a important pastime for him. Feeding them reminded that he could nurture, even with a Quirk that took.

He missed them.

Alongside the white snow came a change of clothes. Just like the last two years, Izuku saw a tailor come to the household for measurements, and about two weeks later saw his wardrobe swapped to a winter set. This happened once a year at the beginning of summer and the start of the colder months.

While Endeavor lived quite frugally compared to the money he earned through his job, at least he never failed to clothe his children properly.

Though Izuku was pretty sure he'd drowsily woken up in his fire pit a few times to find Natsuo dumping at least half of his expensive new clothes into the bonfire.

His second older brother was always up for new ways to irk their father. While it discouraged him to see such negativity, Izuku refrained from ratting him out to Endeavor.

He had standards.

(And the clothes made for a nice meal for his flames but _shh_ , that was just a tiny detail.)

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

"I hate winter."

Shouto's only response at the petulant whine was a muffled chuckle, the kind of noise he did when he'd only just barely caught himself from snorting in amusement. Pausing his book, the second-youngest Todoroki turned his head to the source of the disturbance.

Two green eyes squinted back from under a mountain of blankets.

"It's only three months, otouto." Shouto murmurs, ever soft and patient. He's been like that since the incident -more careful, more choosy of what words and actions he takes around Izuku. He's both grateful and ashamed that his older brother was taking such steps to comfort him. "I don't see what the fuss is about."

"You can keep yourself warm." Izuku grumbles under the fluffy green scarf Fuyumi had gifted him last winter. "I can't do that."

Shouto didn't have anything to offer in response -as it was true. For a fire-like Quirk, Styxfire demanded so much energy, leeched so much heat from its host that Izuku often found himself with numb, cold limbs and a sore throat.

Izuku nearly didn't catch what he uttered next, so quiet his voice was.

"I like winter."

Huh. "Why?" It likely had something to due with the ice half of his Quirk, but Izuku was curious to hear it firsthand from his sibling.

Shouto flips a page. "It's quiet. He's not here often."

Izuku nodded as well as he could from under his blanket nest -for that was also true.

With more and more snow slowing his movements down, Endeavor was often forced to pull more shifts at work to make up for the harsher weather, and often just sleep in a apartment near his agency to facilitate travel and shorten answering time.

Unorthodox was one way of describing the schedule, but Izuku knew why it was like this. His father was prideful but there were deeper reasons as to why he would skip on returning home at all most nights. The hero board also announced rankings around Christmas time so it was all the more reason for their father to put his back into it…even though deep down, Izuku knew he didn't have what it took to get that top spot.

That place was reserved for sunny smile and a laugh that lifted hearts. For large, massive arms wrapping around him, making him warm and happy and _safe_. Inspiring him to strive forward.

(The hands of a true hero, scarred and worn but still unbelievable strong. One Izuku hoped he could one day follow in their footsteps.)

Izuku, despite his love for their father, understood where his sibling came from.

"And…" Shouto falters, a rarity. Izuku waits patiently, not wanting to press his brother with what was a very sensitive issue. "It reminds me of her. She always liked it...used to gift me small sculptures she made."

Oh. Izuku quietly takes in that small bit of information for later.

Though, the way Shouto says it so detachedly is what really takes him off guard. Like was talking about the weather, not the woman who had scarred him for life.

Shouto had stoically accepted his mother's removal from his life. Her disappearance had sparked the same rage he'd seen in Touya's eyes, but the dual haired boy repressed it, channeling that fury into something productive

Quietly, Izuku thinks that Shouto's acceptance didn't make the situation any better.

Kindly, Izuku asked, "...do you think she still makes ice sculptures?"

Shouto hummed, almost wistful.

"I like to think that."

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

January was giving away to February when Izuku sensed a familiar warmth approaching his room.

This person had neither Shouto's fluctuating temperature or his father's scorching heat -if anything, Izuku would describe them as sharing both; sometimes dipping down, lower than it should for a person their age and size, and sometimes burning so bright they nearly eclipsed Endeavor's own presence.

It was a signature Izuku knew all too well, no matter how rarely the eldest of the Todoroki children dropped by.

Touya's presence in the house was not unlike a wandering street cat that was being steadily fed by the house's owners. Him being home only happened once in a blue moon, and he always left just as quickly as he came. More than once Izuku could only catch slivers of attention from the teen before he was already out the door, ready to leave for unknown pastures.

Which meant the way Touya was honing in to his room was odd. Even more so is when he leans against the doorway, familiar blue eyes looking down at him with unexpected solemnity.

"You got a moment, kid?"

Izuku barely blinks. "Always."

The smirk his brother makes stretches slowly across his lips like a satisfied cat.

"Good. C'mon, I got something to say."

Then he spins on his heel and walks back out the door. If it wasn't for the open door he left behind, Izuku would have mistaken his appearance for a ghost. Too surprised by the rare visit, Izuku only threw on a coat over his long sleeved shirt and fur boots before going after his most dysfunctional sibling.

Touya leads him outside, straight to the tall brick wall surrounding the property. Izuku lets him lead hesitantly, hating the way the thick snow sometimes got into his boots if he wasn't careful enough.

When they get to stand next to the wall and Touya smirks, Izuku immediately knows what he's thinking. Even if they rarely saw each other, the satisfied grin on his brother's lips has him on edge, and he knows what the other is planning next.

"We shouldn't…" What meager defence Izuku was about to say crumbled away at Touya's quirked eyebrow, poised with just the right pressure and angle to make him falter.

"Who cares?" Touya tells him as snow kept falling around them, rolling his shoulders.

 _Certainly not him._

Izuku swallows and ducks his head. It's disconcerting, how effortlessly Touya managed to tear down any of his protests. How in a few short words he could leave Izuku uncertain and off-balance, unable to muster a proper answer.

Because he was right, in a sense.

 _Who cares?_

Certainly not their father, who wasn't even home today. Too busy chasing his dreams, grappling for something he could not quite reach to notice what was going on under his own roof.

So when Touya climbs over the fence with a burst of cobalt fire, Izuku dutifully follows.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Touya leads him down the road. Through winding streets, back alleys and crowds, the teenager pushes his way through as if it was second nature. Not even the dark, stormy sky is enough to make him falter.

Izuku fares far less well than his tallest sibling; his height leaves him vulnerable to pushing and shoving from passersby, and his coat is not as effective as he'd hoped at keeping the cold at bay. It by itself could only do so much when he wore pajamas underneath.

The fifth or so time he stumbles, Izuku feels a large hand fall onto his left shoulder, pulling him close to a worn, dark coat. He blinks through the freshly fallen snow on his lashes, and looks up to Touya. His eldest brother was looking steadily ahead, unperturbed.

"...thank you." Izuku murmurs, voice soft as he pulls his hands into his coat pockets and shudders. It's still to cold, as close as the teen was.

His older brother gives him no response beyond a low noise. Still, Touya's grip on his shoulder keeps him from drifting away. His hand feels almost too warm through the winter coat, calling to him.

Styxfire quivers under his ribs, interested as ever to the furnace-like warmth coming off the other boy.

He's given mercy when Touya leads him into what looks like a public building with a nice little front and windows covered in cup patterns. Izuku follows him through the front door, and blinks at the smells inside.

Sugary sweet pastries laid in front of him, safely tucked behind glass from the public. Izuku stares at them, wide-eyed. He's not sure he remembers the last time he'd even seen anything even remotely close to comfort food. Fruits really didn't count in this case, as sweet as they could be.

Sensing his unease, Touya leads him to a nearby table for two, tucked near the exit and in front of a window. Izuku spares a look outside, wincing internally at the burst of snowy wind that sweeps against the glass.

They sit down without commanding anything. Either the staff sense something or Touya was glaring at them while Izuku had his back turned, but they don't get interrupted as they make themselves comfortable around the tiny round table.

Touya extends a hand, palm up, and Izuku immediately knows what he wants. He gives it to hin, slightly cold hands finding their way on the teen's own.

"Your fire is wild." His older brother murmurs appreciatively as he cups Izuku's hands, his own so big compared to the boy's slender fingers and pale skin. Just like the rest of him, Touya runs _warm_. "Just like mine."

Blue dances at his fingertips, curling around black. He didn't even call out to his Quirk before it answered on it's own. Izuku's breathless at the way the flames curl so naturally together.

"He'll cast you away, you know." Touya explains gently, running a finger over the lines on Izuku's left hand. "As soon as you outlive your usefulness, as soon as you burn too much-" _Shoto's wide, terrified eyes as the obsidian fire rise up to swallow him-_ "...he'll get rid of you, little firecracker." A tilt of his head.

Blue eyes glint, sharper than a knife's edge. Izuku can't force down the flinch fast enough.

(He remembers the broken garden, the look in his father's eyes, Shouto's tears.)

Touya leans in, eyes narrowing like a cat about to pounce. He's always been like that, Izuku contemplates. Always ready to look for a opening.

Something to exploit.

"You're already threading the line, aren't yo-"

Whatever he's about to say is cut off by a hiss.

 _What-_ Izuku jolts back, Styxfire retreating as he watches his brother pull his hand away. The very same hand he'd been holding Izuku's with. Izuku feels his eyes widen when he spies a sizable, ugly black mark on Touya's skin, stretching across most of his palm.

He's been burned.

 _Oh._ Izuku thinks blankly, watching the calloused injury.

 _I burned him._

 _I hurt him._

Looking up, he expects Touya to be angry. To curl his nose like Shouto does, to bare his lips like their father. To get up and wordlessly walk away like Natsuo had done so many times.

Touya does none of those things, however. Izuku watches as he calmly retracts his burnt hand, reaches into his pockets with the injured one and pulls something long and narrow. It's some kind of tube of cream. A burn salve, likely.

His brother had come prepared, it seemed.

Izuku watches as he applies the cream on his skin with a motion that all but screamed repetition. A bandage is next, wrapped tight around his damaged palm. His task done, piercing blue eyes flick back to meet his own green ones, unperturbed and pain-free.

Touya looks neither miffed by the injury or satisfied. His expression is carefully blank as he stands up from his seat.

"I'm leaving, and I want you to come with me." His brother suddenly states abruptly, voice low and soft. "Think on it." And with that, he walks away. Like he'd just discussed the weather, and not just the biggest bombshell that Izuku had-

Wait.

 _ **Wait.**_

Touya's leaving.

 _Touya's leaving._

 _And he wants me to-_

Izuku is out of his seat before he can even think. He barrels right out the door, eyes wide and expression open as he scans the faint crowd of people -only to see his brother standing idly by, lopsided grin on his lips as he was expecting Izuku to follow.

The way Touya read him sends an unpleasant shiver down his spine.

Like he planned this, just for drama's sake. To tilt Izuku further, to leave him more off balance than he already was. Leave him open for his suggestions.

(Izuku was tired of it.)

"You followed." The teen speaks up, saying the obvious. For a brief moment, Izuku is torn between scowling at the other Todoroki or running back inside the cafe. "Have you thought about it?" Thin lips curl upward slightly, amused. "So quick?"

Izuku falters.

Could he?

Just leave?

 _Just like that?_

Izuku knew he wasn't happy in the Todoroki home. He wasn't unhappy either, but it was a fine line that he threaded, often tilting to either side depending on what happened that day.

If he had the chance, he'd trade his big bedroom and chef-cooked meals for a tiny, cramped house and hastily made rice. Replace the hard training and stress with warm tea and cozy nights on the couch. A father's careless touch with a mother's embrace.

Could he have that with Touya?

(Didn't he have that with Shouto, though?)

The thought sparks in his head like a strike of thunder. Shouto. Right. For the briefest moment, Izuku wonders asking Touya if the second youngest could come with them.

But he knows the answer.

(And at that moment, he knows his answer.)

"I'm sorry." Izuku murmurs.

Touya freezes in front of him, expression faltering. For the first time since he knew him, he looked genuinely taken off guard.

"...but I can't leave Shouto." He swallows, the words flowing without his input. It was now or never. "...and Shouto isn't father, Touya. He's not."

The teenager shakes his head. Izuku watches, mesmerized, as the dark red locks gleam under the streetlight.

The smile Touya offers next is bitter.

"Maybe not yet, but you'll see."

Izuku stands his ground, pushing back the memory of Shouto's barked order in favor of remembering his shaky, choked apology. "No. I refuse to believe that."

 _Just because you gave up doesn't mean I will._

Touya turns his head to look at him, knowing. The grin on his face had worn off, leaving a tiny, sad smile on his chapped lips. Solemn.

Lonely.

'We'll see, little firecracker."

Then he's gone, swallowed up by the crowd. Disappearing, just like a ghost.

...and Izuku is all alone.

He stands there, forgotten and hand still half-risen, extended as if to reach for his sibling. But there's no one there anymore. No one to lean on, to soak up their warmth, to take comfort in. Only Izuku and the cold.

And that's when he realizes something else.

 _He's alone and he has no idea what to do._

He's never been outside the estate alone. He's alone in the dark and with no one to turn to. The creeping panic grows faster at the realization, gripping him tight enough to make his fire jolt and quiver.

No, wait.

He is quivering.

The cold was seeping in through his coat, faster now that he was standing still.

What could he-

Izuku stumbles forward as a man walks behind him, not even apologizing as he nearly knocks the nine year old over. The youngest Todoroki watches him go, wide-eyed. He can't stay here, he realizes quietly.

He needs to move.

His feet drag him away from the cafe, instinctively heading towards where the harsh wind could not touch him; Izuku wanders into a stretch of street in between two building, a sliver of road no bigger than if he extended both arms on either side. There's even a few trash cans tucked here, the stench barely reaching his cold, numb nose.

 _At least it's not as freezing,_ Izuku thinks grimly.

He has no phone though. And no idea how to get back.

He can almost see his mother, scolding him for being so hasty. He should have put on a sweater before grabbing the coat. The fabric feels rough against the flimsy shirt, and the cold was seeping in between; viciously little needles of pain stabbing into his skin as it slowly spread across his limbs.

He tries to will Styxfire to rise up and warm him, but it feels cold and jittery in his gut, shaking almost as badly as he was.

Defeated, Izuku can only close his eyes.

 _I'm alone._

He can't help the punched out sob from leaving his lips.

 _He's gone._

His legs quiver under him.

 _I'm a failure._

He slides down the wall and there, curled up between two trash cans, hair dusty with snow, Izuku cries.

* * *

 **Touya you grade A dick.**

 **Next chapter will be last chapter before we skip to the start of the canon timeline -tho at this point lel what is canon. Also we are prob getting one last All Might scene because this combined with the starting half of the next chapter is gonna make u reach for the tissues.**

 **Also yes, Touya intentionally left him out in the cold after Izuku refused to leave with him. Spiteful bitch.**

 **K, so I can finally talk about what the absolute fuck Izuku's Quirk is.**

 **Izuku's Quirk is a emitter-type called Styxfire; a hybrid of Endeavor's Hellflame and Inko's Quirk, this Quirk primarily manifests as black flames. The color of the flames is due to the devouring nature of the fire as it swallows anything it touches, including light. Theoretically Izuku can control what it incinerates -as it was shown when it first manifested- though at the moment it's very challenging for him, especially when it is organic matter.**

 **Not letting Styxfire devour things causes it to switch to another source of fuel, which is a reserve of excess energy Izuku stores from burnings. That means that he has a set limit of how much he can use his Quirk before he runs out and doesn't burn the environment. The reserves Izuku speak of is said fuel source. Izuku uses it every time he activates Styxfire to jumpstart the flames, and it's a constant drain that depends if he allows it to fuel itself naturally or not.**

 **If his reserves are null and there is nothing to devour, Styxfire will devour Izuku's stamina and eventually, his fat and muscle tissues. As you can guess, this is extremely dangerous -and the reason Izuku nearly died a few chapters back.**

 **I'll say more but I'd spoil some shit for next chapter, which is the last before the Yuuei exam. Brace for more angst, tears, family stuff...and ALL MIGHT!**

 **Endeavor's blood pressure after this lol.**

 **PS: For those who want more goodness, go to my works and find the story titled The Defect. If you like Stygian Fire, you'll like it's prototype. It's a oneshot but I think you will enjoy it fams~!**


	9. Chapter 9

**When you open the Google doc and realize half of it is missing so you gotta start again from pretty much scraps fuck my life. I was nearly done with the first scene and it's the hardest emotionally to do.**

 **I cried a full day but hey, here I am now! A month late buuuut, my exams are done so I'm deflating like a goddamn balloon rn.**

 **Tokoyami has entered that stage in his life where he's a hormonal bs so its a coin toss when he lands on me between tiny pets and him biting the shit outta me. Thank god it doesn't hurt as much.**

 **In other news, I managed to plan this story ahead up until chapter 20**

* * *

Natsuo knows there's something wrong the moment he opens his eyes.

He doesn't know why, he just knows. Deep in his bones, there's this alarm going off that refuses to let him turn around in his bed and go back to blissful fucking sleep-

-though, it must also have something to do with the loud slam of his bedroom door nearly bursting from its hinges as its kicked open.

Immediately he thinks it's the old man, and he mentally prepares to rear up and spit vitriol at the foulest member of the family as he sits up. There's a near silent click and the lights in his bedroom are stabbing into his eyes.

If he had been even the slightest bit asleep before, it was gone now.

The tired, frustrated part of him wanted to shout at the other boy for the interruption. Vicious words were already forming at the tip of his tongue, a reflex grown out of years of spite for their father -but no noise left his lips when he saw the other's state.

Shouto, the perfect heir of the Todoroki name, looked like an absolute _mess_.

He seemed to have gone half mad as he stands there, hair a bird's nest, clothes in disarray, too big eyes and too small pupils darting around Natsuo's room like a hawk. In that moment, he can't help but stare at the sight of his second youngest brother looking.

He doesn't remember a time when he's seen him so desperate.

Like his whole world had come crashing down.

"Shouto, what are you-?"

"He's not here," Shouto's words were interrupted by a harsh, panting exhale. It's then that Natsuo noted the way he was all but panting, thin nightshirt sticking to his chest from sweat. "I looked everywhere. He's not here."

At the explanation, Natsuo's throat suddenly feels tight and his chest as cold as ice, as if Shouto had reached into his ribcage with his right hand and clenched his heart tight.

It doesn't take a genius to know who the little nine year old is talking about. There only one male under this roof that Shouto interacted with on a regular basis who's lack of presence would lead to such distress. Only one person in this mess of a house Shouto cared about enough to look like he's gone days without sleep.

Natsuo gets up.

Fuck.

 _Fuck._

It's winter outside, there's no way Izuku would have gone out -no, he's not that crazy. For the little boy that was practically _suicide_.

Maybe he fell asleep somewhere.

(The thought sounded stupidly idealistic, even in the safety of his own mind.)

"He might be somewhere in the house."

Shouto's glare was sullen and sharper than a razor blade. "I checked the entire house. All the floors and rooms except the bedrooms." He snapped. _Snapped_.

Shit, this wasn't good. Natsuo swallows.

"Even the-"

"Even the office." Shouto's teeth ground together, loud enough that he could hear it. "He's. Not. Here." He stresses every word, lips curled back and teeth exposed in a frustrated snarl.

"Okay." Natsuo breathes, getting up from his futon. Shouto continues glares, as if he thinks that he was hiding the smallest member of their family under his bedsheets. " _Okay_. Have you checked with Fu-"

A soft voice speaks up behind Shouto. "He has." Fuyumi replies in her brother's stead, peeking her head through the doorway. "Only person that doesn't k-know is Father. I think he came home while we were sleeping."

Her eyes are red and shiny.

Natsuo tries hard to ignore it.

"You might have missed him." He responds, running a shaking hand through his hair. "Let's check again."

And so they did.

After a full ten minutes around the house turning everything upside down, Natsuo starts to panic. There was no fifth Todoroki child anywhere in here.

Izuku is missing.

"I'll check the grounds." Fuyumi spoke up when they met back up in the main hall. She was hunched over as she stuffed her shoes on. "He might be outside in his other room."

They all knew the truth though. Izuku, going outside in the middle of the night?

Unlikely.

As Fuyumi opened the front door and exposed the dark, cold night outside, Shouto made a low noise and walked off. Brows knitted together and shoulder hunched with displeasure. Practically stomping his feet as he headed towards the bedrooms.

Natsuo could only bid goodbye to his sister, still unable to process the situation. It was logical; his sister' ice Quirk, as weak as it was, would keep her safe from the bitter cold.

"Good luck." He tells her softly as he turns towards where Shouto had left running.

 _Find him. Please._

Fuyumi only nods before walking out the door. Natsuo closes it behind her then rushes after Shouto, whom he can hear his footsteps.

He wasn't going to his room, Natsuo notices quickly as he observes the other boy bypass his door, then Izuku's, then Natsuo's. Instead of picking any of those he hones in to the one in the back. Each step loud and determined.

 _Oh, fuck._ Suddenly realizing what his brother was doing, Natsuo lunges forward to stop him, panic and fear lurching up his throat.

"Shouto wait, let me-"

His little brother _slams_ an open palm against the door. The blow echoes loudly across the hallway, reverberating in Natsuo's body down to his bones. Then he lifts his hand and does it again.

And again.

 _And again._

Natsuo can only stand there, petrified by the smaller boy's brash fury, boldness he had never attempted himself for fear of his own safety. His feet were rooted to the floor by Shouto's dark, blank expression.

He'd rarely -no, he'd _never_ seen this kind of intensity from his sibling before.

 _Guess they really are close._

Somehow, it doesn't hurt as much as it should. If anything, it's expected.

Soon enough, they hear the stomping footsteps behind the door. Shouto takes a sharp step back just as the door swung open, nearly backing into Natsuo whom for once, is at a lost of words.

Endeavor was clad in his sleeping wear, and by the angry squirming of the flames around his face, he was most displeased. Tough shit though, Natsuo thought darkly. There were more important things to worry about than his beauty sleep.

" _What is it?"_ Their father reprimands them, lips curled back in distaste. "It's late boys, I have work in the-"

Natsuo stops him immediately. "Izuku's not in his room." When their father's eyes shift to Shouto, Natsuo quickly interrupts him. "He wasn't with Shouto neither. We can't find him."

Endeavor seems to pause. Then, his door opens wider and he steps out of his bedroom fully. Instinctively, Natsuo tugs Shouto back, out of the much larger man's way.

"Explain." He rumbles.

Just at that moment as Natsuo opens his mouth to do so -Shouto almost trembling with helpless energy at his side, almost looking like a rabid dog- he hears loud footsteps coming from behind them. Turning around, he's just in time to see Fuyumi slide around the corner and nearly fell over in her haste. Only a hand on the wall kept her from falling over.

Her eyes were wide and her hair was even more of a disarray, caked with wet, melting patches of snow.

Natsuo's heart drops.

"He's not...not at the firehouse either." His older sister chokes out, panting like a racehorse. "I looked everywhere. He's not on the grounds."

He can't believe it was possible for his heart to hurt this much.

 _Fuck. Fuckfuck fuck._ Izuku couldn't have just _left_ , he could barely go outside on his own with how helpless he was against the winter cold. His body couldn't generate enough to keep him healthy with the taxing cost of his Quirk. There was no way the smallest member of their family would have disappeared on his own.

This left a single answer.

A villain had somehow made it onto the grounds.

Shouto makes a small, repressed exhale at his side, likely realizing what it meant too. The most Natsuo can do is lay a hand on his shoulder and squeeze it slightly in comfort. It goes unnoticed in his stress. The small body trembles faintly under his fingers.

Once again, it's the most emotion Natsuo had ever seen him express in years.

A part of him knows just how fucking pathetic that was.

"You didn't look thoroughly." Endeavor's voice pierces through the stillness, stern and unimpressed. "He might be hiding somewhere. Check again-"

"I. Looked. Everywhere." Shouto's voice at Natsuo's side was so very much cold, slicing through their father's retort. His tiny nostrils flared as he spoke next, his voice echoing through the quiet hallway with finality. " _Twice._ He's missing."

Endeavor falters, a minute movement Natsuo nearly doesn't catch. He almost doesn't blame the old fool, given how much vitriol was in Shouto's voice.

 _Missing,_ Natsuo thinks as ice curls in his gut, sharp and freezing beyond what his weak Quirk could do. _Taken._

 _ **Stolen**_ _._

It's just a thought, just a terrible _fucking_ answer to Izuku's disappearance, but it doesn't fail to make him feel small and helpless. Their house was supposed to be safe. As safe as it could be with a man like Endeavor running it, but still it should be secure.

Villains coming in at night and stealing one of their smallest should be impossible.

And yet, here they were. Standing in front of their doubtful father, whose arms were crossed and his expression somber as he looked down at them. Fuyumi, her small frame still shivering from being outside in the cold night. Shouto, trembling as well but with rage. Natsuo himself, caught in the middle.

In that moment, he felt the disgust pooling in his gut surge up forward and explode in a vicious, acidic fire that Natsuo knew too well. God, how he knew this rage. It was beautiful in its familiarity.

It's all the more satisfying due to the fact it chooses to manifest just as Endeavor opens his mouth.

"Che-"

"Stop fucking arguing and find him!" He speaks up, somehow overpowering his father's voice and silencing anything his little brother was about to say. Any other time, with any other argument with the man this would be considered a victory but now it just tastes bitter in his mouth. "You're a hero, no?! Then fucking do something and _find your own fucking son, it shouldn't be that hard!"_

By the end of tirade he's half expecting a hard slap across his face and he even braces for the inevitable burst of pain. The moment where his father's rage boils over and crests, piercing through his self-control like it would rarely do, but always loomed like a hanging sword over their heads.

...but the blow didn't come.

Instead, Endeavor is silent.

Instead, he walks right past them.

At the sudden approach, Natsuo instinctively grabs Shouto and pulls him out of the way with a brisk tug; he feels Fuyumi's hand on his own shoulder, his older sister doing the same for him. Their father pays them no mind as he shoulders past them and heads down the hallway, not a sound leaving the hulking man save his loud footsteps.

Lost, confused, Natsuo tilted his head to look at his siblings. Fuyumi's biting her lower lip, brow furrowed and expression vulnerable as she met his gaze. _What now?_ She seems to mouth at him.

He does not know.

At his side, Shouto boldly breaks off to follow their father, tiny brows drawn together in a muted scowl. Fuyumi and Natsuo have to scramble after him.

The old man heads to the front door. Natsuo watches through wary eyes as he makes a small diversion to the main closet by the entrance, fishing out a pair of winter boots and his long coat. All are put on with frightening efficiency. Only the growing mane of fire around his face betrays the hero's inner turmoil.

Natsuo distantly smell burn fabric, but he says nothing because the next thing he knows, his father heads for the door.

 _Holy shit, he actually listened to me._

Cold wind slaps him across the face as his father opens the front door. It's enough to make his eyes water.

 _(Please, don't be out there alone Izuku.)_

"Stay here. I'll be back." The gruff bark snapped him to awareness. Blinking rapidly to chase away the moisture created by the snowflakes drifting in, he finds himself meeting a pair of aquamarine eyes.

Endeavor was looking back at him, expression indescribable.

For once, Natsuo doesn't find it himself to bristle. All he does is nod; this earned him narrowing eyes and a brisk turn back to the door.

Natsuo watches him go. Shouto is silent at his side -but he can feel his hand clutching the fabric of his shirt tightly, so much so that Natsuo can feel the cold from his Quirk slipping out of control through the fabric. In that moment, he doesn't mind; his attention is fixed on the lumbering form stepping out into the night, a mane of flames clustering around his head like a crown and lighting the way.

For once in his life, Natsuo looked at his father's retreating form and felt some form of hope.

 _You better find him, you bastard._

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

He's not sure how long he sits on the cold, hard ground. Feet tucked to his chest, hands retracted into the sleeves of his winter coat. Every single one one of his limbs shaking as they struggle to keep warm.

There's no escaping the winter air. Like a slippery eel, it crawls in from every opening in his clothes; the rumpled bottom of his pajamas' pants, his coat's sleeves and shirt helm were holes from which the cold used infiltrate his clothes.

Here, he drifts.

How long had he been here? How long since he'd left the estate?

(How long since Touya left him behind…?)

The question hurts to think about; like a punch to the gut it slams into his mind and settles there as a blooming bruise. A bundle of hurt and shame and _fear_ that refused to ease away, burrowing deep like a parasite into his heart.

Tentatively he looks up from his position on the floor, wincing as his hood lifts slightly with the movement and the cold winter wind slams into his face. It takes all of his strength to not whimper.

It's scary, how quickly night was settling in. The sky's fully dark now, pulling towards a shade of midnight blue that reminded Izuku of his Quirk.

Just the thought of his Quirk hurt, reminding him of what happened minutes -hours?- prior.

He'd never burned Touya before. His flames had never truly harmed his brother, no matter how close he got to his fire. Not to this level. Not to the point of scorching his palms like it had in the coffee shop.

Why now?

He hadn't burned someone that badly since...since…

As the memories he'd tried for years to ignore crawl out into the light Izuku sinks into the ground, tucking his chin down into his coat. Bites his lower lip as he remembers the smell of burning flesh and the screams. The nightmares of feasting koi fish and disembodied arms that reached out for him.

(Maybe he deserves this.)

It's a thought that doesn't sit ugly in his heart. Rather, it feels light. Truthful.

 _Why else would he do this?_

Izuku's lost. He's alone. He's cold and very, very tired. He just wants the pain to stop.

He wants everything to stop.

So when his eyelids become heavy and start fluttering shut, he can't find it in himself to fight it.

It's easier to let himself drift.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

In between the brief span of awareness, he dreams of a hollow face with sunken eyes. He imagines pale, scarred hands reaching down for him, pulling him close -chasing away the lonely, biting winter cold.

But no one came.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 _What did I do wrong?_

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

It's Styxfire that drags his mind out of it's cold prison. Extracts him from dreams of ice and ash, of little lopsided half-smiles that spoke of goodbyes and the weight of too many mistakes on his back.

There was something nearby.

Something _warm_.

It's moving nearby to his left, just at the edge of his thermal vision. He tries to open his eyes, but his eyelids feel too cold. The eyelashes feel stuck together. Groggily, he pulls himself up -and instantly regrets the decision as his numb limbs protest, joints creaking as they are forced to move.

For a moment, he considers just sitting back down.

Letting even more snow pile up on him.

...but then he notices how this thermal signature ran far hotter than Shouto could; it was only to be matched by Touya's burning presence.

...but it was not his brother.

And the realization -what it meant- sent a spike of fear relief down his spine, spurning him into moving. Guided by his Quirk, he limps out of his hiding spot. Stumbles over a few objects; he feels the built up snow fall off his shoulders, but it does nothing to alleviate the weight on his shoulders.

He's cold.

He's tired.

It's a monumental task in and out of itself just to keep moving. For the hundredth time, Izuku contemplates just letting his knees buckle under him and take him to the ground.

Let the numbness swallow him whole and leave nothing behind.

Was is still worth it, to keep moving?

Izuku doesn't know the answer to that question.

What he does know however, is that he's managed to make his way out of the alley and get noticed, for the blob of heat stops moving at the very edge of his thermal sense. Shivering, exhausted, worn down, Izuku can only stand there and wait, much like a wounded animal waiting for the end.

Death comes in the form of the blob all but rushing to stand in front of him. It's large and vaguely human shaped, easily thrice his size. This close, he can feel its warmth; something jerks inside of him at this, whining with yearning.

 _Styxfire,_ Izuku recognizes numbly as it-

" _Boy, have you gone mad?!"_

Never had he felt so happy being yelled at. The familiarity after so much time along and cold would have made him cry if he still had the ability to.

"Why did you leave the grounds?!"

 _Help me,_ Izuku wants to cry through the pain, but his mouth feels too dry and cold to answer. Instead he can only just wait there, feebly attempting to tuck himself into a ball while standing to conserve the minimal amount of heat he had left.

"Answer me."

He says nothing. Just stands there, shivering, tears slowly turning to ice on his painful cheeks.

God, he's so cold. He can't feel his legs or his arms. Against each other, the tip of his fingers feel like little blocks of ice. He's surprised there's any feeling left in them.

So caught up in the pain of being frozen solid, he doesn't notice that the blurry shape of his father is moving closer, swarming

him. Not until he feels the shape of a massive hand on his back, swallowing most of his head and shoulders. Instinctively, he sags slightly against the touch. The hand doesn't even flinch at the added weight.

"Izuku."

Endeavor's voice wasn't as loud and commanding as it should have been. In fact, if anything Izuku would characterize it as _small_. The fact he wasn't openly crying seemed to be unsettling his father.

Nevertheless, he doesn't respond when his name is called. Try as he might, he couldn't. Not when his tongue feels like it was held down by chains and weighed a few hundred pounds.

He's so _tired_.

Like he's reached some invisible finishing line and now there was no will left in him to do anything but lay on the ground until his skin matched the snow.

"Izuku." Louder now, more like he remembers. But still so...so _something_ that wakes Izuku the tiniest bit more. "Son, look at me."

 _Son?_

The sudden strange word leaves him caught off guard -reeling him up from the muted cold cage around his mind like a fish on a hook. With all the strength he has left, Izuku forces his frozen eyelids open. It hurts to do so, but he perseveres, the choice of words pushing him forward.

The first thing he sees is white.

Black. Red. Blue.

He has to blink a few times, so blurry his sight was. Distantly, he thinks he feels ice clinging to his eyelashes. As he quickly discovers, the white is the snowflakes pooling around him, slinking their way in every nook and cranny they can find. The black is of the vast night sky, the stars barely distinguishable amongst velvet black.

The red and blue, well, they belong to the halo of flames around his father's shoulders, and the unmistakable aquamarine color of his eyes. The familiar sight brought him strength -drawing out of him the sense of attention and nervousness that he learned to associate with the Todoroki patriarch. It chased some of the cold away, though only slightly.

(The betrayal still dug deep in his gut with claws of ice.)

Faintly, he notes that he can see the reflection of his eyes in his father's. Had his eyes always been this dull and dead? They look almost grey in his father's eyes, none of the familiar emerald he inherited from his mother. Oh.

The sudden thought of Inko makes his heart seize.

"-what happened?"

It's almost gentle, almost _kind_ , and for some reason his father's words are the last thing Izuku needed to break all over again.

Crying silently he stumbles forward, all but falling against his father in exhaustion. He hits a hip and huddles there, shaking. He hears the man let out a hiss as he catches him, the cold that had carved its way into Izuku's body no doubt having been discovered by the Pro-Hero.

Styxfire whirls and flickers inside him, weak but not out, revitalized by his father's proximity. Like winter twining away to reveal summer, the cold gripping his Quirk was slowly melting away. Slipping, gone, far away…

… _.leaving..._

Izuku sobs harder, each wet cry punching it's way out of his shuddering body. His father says something, but he can't hear it past the pain tearing at his heart. It's only when Styxfire flutters in his ribcage that he notices the sudden warm all around him, and how his feet aren't touching the ground anymore.

He was being carried. Bundled into something warmth and toasty, a change of temperature that reached out and began settling in his bones, chasing the cold away. It's still there though, crawling at the corners of his body, numbing his fingers and toes, but he feels it less. The ice in his chest had thawed thanks to Hellflame.

Izuku lays limp in his cocoon, too exhausted to bother getting comfortable. What little energy he'd gathered, what little had pushed him forward from the alleyway floor was melting away like the snow in his hair. Leaving behind a wet, soggy mess, pliant and cold.

There's movement around him, but he can't see or hear it, only feel the distant oscillations of his father's body as he starts moving. Distantly, Izuku thinks back to that night meeting spent under an empty black sky so long ago, at the feeling of exhausted relief and pure fresh joy he'd felt that was engraved in his memory.

Here, in a situation that felt so similar yet different, there was no joy to be had. No relief, nothing to hold on to but a growing weariness that infiltrated his body, taking over the places where the cold was starting to lose hold.

Endeavor's steps are quick but somewhat careful, which makes something settle inside him. Maybe here he can let go. He certainly doesn't have the energy to go anywhere, either way.

Not like Touya.

 _gone gone gone_

"He's gone." He murmurs brokenly into his father's collar. "Touya's gone."

 _He's not coming back._

He feels tight. It takes a moment for Izuku's muddled to figure out that its due to his father's arms tighten just a little bit further around him. Somehow, this simple gesture encourages him to continue.

"He...wanted me to go with him." Izuku continues, drowsy and loose lipped. Speaking through the fatigue was becoming harder and harder. "...m'not...leaving Shou…"

His father's pace falters.

Pauses.

Resumes.

Izuku buried his face into the coat wrapped around him. Cries some more into the warm fabric. The whimpered sob that leaves him is barely recognizable to his own ears.

" _...I want my mom..."_

Above him, his father makes no response.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

He comes too just in time to hear the metal gate of the estate close shut behind him.

Izuku stays silent in his father's arms, soaking in the warmth from his body. He's only faintly aware of the way snow crunches under his father's feet, giving away to stone after a bit.

He only opens his eyes when he hears his father's grip shifting and the creak of the front door opening. The first thing he sees is a pair of mismatched eyes.

The sight of them is calming, no matter how frightening Shouto's glare was.

He's home.

 _It's over._

His eyes slide shut.

"Give him to me." He hears Shouto demands in a flat, no nonsense tone that leaves little room for arguing. "Now."

There's muffled moving. Izuku feels the rumbling growl come from the chest he was laying against.

"Do not tell _me_ what to do, Shouto." His father says, voice clipped. "Move out of the way, now. He has hypothermia."

Silence.

Movement again. There's muffled talking, but he's too drowsy, too tired to try and concentrate on what they were saying. Even his thermal sense was fussy and vague, narrowed down to his immediate surroundings.

He doesn't need it right now, no?

He's home.

He's okay.

(Touya's still gone.)

Izuku is startled from this state of in between slumber and awareness by gentle hands pry his clothes off. They're small and dainty, not as large as his father's but nevertheless larger than his own.

He's not being held anymore. He's sitting somewhere, or at least trying to. His body keeps tilting to the side and those hands have to catch him constantly to keep him from falling over. The sudden removal of his clothes have him feebly shifting away. No, they were warm. Wet but somewhat warm, he's too cold he's not sure he'd last without them-

Then there's soft shushing, and the hands move to cup his frozen cheeks and tilts his head up. "It's alright, Izuku. Just stay still."

Oh.

He recognizes that small, reassuring voice, even through the trembling tenor. It's Fuyumi.

Slowly, he relaxes and allows his sister to take care of him.

The rest of his clothes are removed. By now his body feels no longer colder than the snow outside, but rather Izuku feels a tepid warmth under his skin. He's still cold, just less so. At least he can feel his fingers now.

Time moves past in a blur.

When Izuku comes to next, it's to the sensation of a small body pulling him into their lap, arms wrapping around his limp form like he was a teddy bear. He's clothed now, and his skin feels warm and humid. The cold almost feels like an afterthought now, a bad nightmare that was fading away under the passage of time.

Izuku, docile, lets his face get tucked into a pale neck. Shouto was both very hot and very cold; he can feel the dividing temperature through his clothes, but he doesn't mind. It's familiar and safe.

It's a strange reflection of how their father had held him, only minutes prior. Has it been minutes, though? He's not sure.

It felt like forever since then.

...this whole night had been very long, now that he thought about it. So very long. Sighing, he burrows closer against Shouto's warm form; his awareness of the world slowly fades away, narrowing down to his bed.

...still, no matter how hard he tries, he can't ignore the blob of heat standing none too far away, just out of his reach. Fluttering his eyes open, he shifts his head just enough to look at it's direction.

Dull green meets bright blue.

For a moment, neither made a move. Izuku drowsily takes in the unusually calm and expressionless look on the face of the man who sat just mere feet away from the mattress.

Then wordlessly, his father stands up straight and walks over to the door. Through bleary eyes and heavy eyelids, Izuku watches him flick the lights off and slip out of the room, closing the door behind him.

The sudden darkness is the last push his body needed for his mind to slip under.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

When he comes out of the room and goes to the kitchen the next morning, Fuyumi drops to her knees and drags him into an almost painful embrace. Her arms are slightly cold, betraying the ice Quirk acting out under her pale skin.

Upon being released from his sister's hug, Izuku finds himself being swept up in Natsuo's arms, picked up to be held against his chest like he's a teddy bear.

His older brother wouldn't allow him down until Shouto's insistent glare grew too menacing to ignore.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Things are different, after that night.

At the same time, they're the same.

Izuku still wakes up early in the morning, his brother usually tucked against his side, curled up like a happy cat. He still flops over his sibling and harasses him until the older boy wakes up as well. They still brush their teeth and have breakfast together, sometimes with Fuyumi even though that is rare. Natsuo's presence feels scarcer, the oldest remaining Todoroki boy a whirlwind in the morning as he likes to leave the house extra early to hang out with his friends and avoid encountering their father.

Shouto still studies with him in the library and Izuku still naps every few days in a bed of coal, wrapped in black flames that flared every once in a while with renewed life.. Shouto still leaves small ice sculptures in the most impromptu of places and Izuku still merely giggles upon finding the wet mess afterwards -but doesn't clean it.

And yet, things are different.

His father is more demanding in training. Both his Quirk and body are pushed to the limits after every session, and most often than not Izuku barely has the strength to crawl back into his bed for a midday nap, less he collapse in the most improper location. The way Endeavor trained them now, the kitchen table looked like an acceptable place to curl up and let sleep whisk him away.

His brother fared better given his superior physical health, but even he looked frayed by the end of the first week of their new schedule. Still, they bore it with familiar resignation.

Complaining about their training was never on the table. Maybe it never really was.

This wasn't the end of the changes, Izuku noted. More than once, he catches his father making rounds around the house before leaving for work, as if he is expecting a pale phantom with sunken eyes to appear when he wasn't looking and snatch one of them away.

It was unsettling, that Endeavor thought it to be a possibility. That Touya would come back to grab him, forcefully this time. The unease faded not before long though, for the more Izuku thought about it, the more he found it unlikely.

There was a certain finality in the way Touya left him behind so easily, so readily.

If his father hadn't found him...

(It's something he finds himself thinking about too often for his comfort.)

But he's not out there in the cold anymore. Instead, most often than not Izuku wakes up in the morning to his brother wrapped around him like a leech, often enough crushing him to the futon. While he groans and shoves Shouto lightly on those mornings to get him off him, internally Izuku doesn't really mind. In fact, he likes it.

It reminds him that he's still here.

...though he feels both relief and shame at this fact, this happiness he feels knowing this. He doesn't feel like he deserves being so happy.

Not when there was someone out there who wasn't.

Because of him.

 _I'm so sorry, Touya._

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Three weeks after Touya left, Izuku looks out the window and sees a pair of staffers working hard at putting up small devices on the perimeter of the estate. The snow is making it hard for them to move around, but they persevere. It's a curious sight.

"Security cameras and sensors," is all Fuyumi tells him the next morning when he asks.

Well.

Izuku leaves it at that.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

His relationship with Fuyumi and Natsuo also changed.

Their hesitation had eased away over the years, but there was still an underlying current to their interactions -an apprehension born from _knowing_ that Izuku could never blame them for. He would do the same, he thinks, if their roles had been reversed.

But now, it's as if the incident had never happened.

He doesn't see his older siblings as often as he does Shouto, but there was something different about the few interactions they have.

Mornings he finds Fuyumi knocking on his bedroom door to wake him and Shouto up, just like she often did. But while his youngest brother rarely comes into the kitchen with them -eating in his room was a habit that Izuku while he tried could not fully break him out of- Izuku had no qualms with following his only sister to the kitchen to spend some time with her before she had to leave for school.

Interesting enough, she shows him how to make tea. It's something that takes him off guard at first, but he quickly jumps into it with zeal, happy to have something new to learn that wasn't related to hero work.

As it turned out, there was a cupboard specifically for said beverages tucked in a corner of the kitchen. Apparently, tea was something Rei had enjoyed quite a lot and thus over the years she had filled a small, ornate little cupboard at the back of the kitchen with several types of spices and dried plants in little glass wares.

Opening the cupboard was always an experience for him. There's tons of different little herbs and bottled things that assault his nose with their strange, curious odors, picking his curiosity and leaving him reading the little stickers, voraciously absorbing every name. It makes him so curious he can feel Styxfire perk up in his chest, the black flames interested by the prospect of something new.

Or at least, at the prospect of more things to devour.

His Quirk wasn't picky in the slightest.

It's not like Izuku was going to indulge in that however; his Quirk had plenty to feed at the firepit, there was no reason to burn a few measly dry plants when it wouldn't even be enough to cover half a training session. And the mere thought of letting his Quirk have at this small little cupboard made his heart twist and stomach lurch with unease.

Rei wasn't his mother. They weren't related; he had no obligation towards this person. She was someone he never knew, someone he'd never met. Someone he'd only heard of through Fuyumi's passing comments, Shouto's clipped responses and Endeavor's claim that one night when he was introduced to the world.

By all accounts, she shouldn't matter.

And yet occasionally when he opens up the cupboard in the morning, Izuku runs his finger over the little glass jars and lets his mind run free.

Did she do this every morning, or did she also make tea in the afternoon? What kinds did she like the most? Was there a time set aside every day for this? Did Shouto drink tea with her in the mornings?

(Did she ever do this with father?)

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

"He's working harder than before." Shouto comments one day, giving Izuku pause from the mathematics book he'd been reading. His notebook is perched precariously on his knees, still open on his latest assignment.

"...has he?"

Shouto hums in response.

He takes the lapse in their conversation to think it through. While enthusiastic about heroes, Izuku's childhood worship had simmered down enough that he didn't consider covering his bedroom in All Might merchandise -whilst Natsuo would approve, it was the fastest way at getting his room renovated in a fiery manner- and though he followed a lot of heroes' ascension through the ranks, he never really kept up with his father's work.

Even if Endeavor was allergic to cameras and did his work strictly and to the letter without much of the showbiz that the media liked, his lack of interest in his father's career was for a entire different manner.

Simply put, it made him feel queasy. Wrong.

"Do you know why?" Izuku asks, watching as Shouto drew on the misty window. Outside, the snowstorm continued raging on.

"Overheard him on the phone." His brother murmurs, almost too low to catch. "He was talking to one of his employees I think." A pause. Izuku doesn't miss the brief flash of hesitation in the older boy's mismatches eyes.

"Apparently, All Might's stats have dropped."

Izuku's book drops to the ground.

 _What?_

"I know," Shouto replies, and it takes a moment for Izuku to realize that yes, he'd just squeaked that out. "I don't get it either."

"B-but he's All Might." Izuku can't help but stammer.

Shouto merely shrugs. "That's all I know."

He then turns back to his own assignment, but Izuku doesn't follow. He just stares off into the distance instead, something squirming in his chest that wasn't his Quirk.

The idea that All Might could lose his-

 _No, don't think about it,_ he tells himself. _He's All Might. He's strong. He's a hero. The_ _ **best**_ _hero._

In his mind, there's no way anyone else could be the Number One Hero. It couldn't compute. Izuku knew, deep down, that it was a silly belief; time waits for no man and all heroes retired eventually. It was a matter of life; something he'd learned extensively in his hero studies. The work of a Pro-Hero was hardly ever kind of the human body; All Might was starting to push it in years of service.

Realistically, something like this was bound to happen.

And yet, Izuku couldn't find it in himself to see anyone else in that role. Because the Number One Hero was a role only meant for the best hero, and what person could compare to All Might? Who could make people feel relieved and _safe_ with their mere appearance?

 _No one,_ he concedes gloomily as he looks down at his hands. _There's no one who can make people feel like that._

As he looks at his hands, a memory tugged at his attention -hands, much bigger than his own, large and golden and faintly threaded with scars, cupping his own carefully. It's a memory he knows too well, one he revisits often for comfort.

All Might probably didn't remember him by now, but Izuku would forever remember their encounter.

...the more he thought about it, however, the more he wanted to chastise himself for his own silliness. Of course no one could compare to All Might, but his rank was a role, something that would outlive the man, as terrifying of a thought as it was.

Because Izuku had seen both sides of the coin, hadn't he? Heroes weren't the flashy, two dimensional comic book characters of pre-Quirk society. They could be good. They could be bad.

Most of all, they were human.

 _Maybe he's having an off year._ Izuku thinks, but even to himself the argument sounds weak. _Maybe he just needs rest._

It didn't stop the uncomfortable feeling twisting like an eel in Izuku's gut.

(Deep down, he knew something was wrong.)

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

His memory of the Quirk registration was still, after all these years, clear as day.

Namely, for the absolute shirtshow registering Shouto's Quirk had been.

It was no secret that the Todoroki patriarch was a proud man. The name of his Quirk Hellflame proved that. Knowing this, it was a given that he expected something good out of his children.

As the day of the registration loomed, Izuku scoured brought his notes, silently panicking as he looked over the suggestions he'd written down over the years. Styxfire was the name he used to refer to his Quirk up until now, but it never stopped him from doubting his choice.

It's not like he didn't like the name -a mixture of mythology and inspired by his father's Hellflame, but his nerves got the better of him every time he was reminded of the approaching date.

Especially as this new registration would be more official.

Legally, children had to be registered with a basic Quirk registration form a maximum of two weeks since their Quirks manifested. From what Izuku remembered, it only held minimal information such as type and a very crude description of what it could do. His father had done the paperwork and he'd only signed it.

From what he understood, this was done so teachers could look through their students' files, see fire quirk listed, and know they had to keep an eye on the child and steer them away from anything flammable. Or keep the child with electric quirk under strict supervision when at the pool.

Unfortunately for Todoroki Enji's wallet when it came to Izuku's Quirk and the question _what can it burn?_ , the answer was yes.

Because absolutely _everything_ was flammable. No exceptions, that is besides Izuku himself.

For the longest time, Izuku's Quirk was only registered as Black Flames, and Shouto's was Half Hot, Half Cold. Not the most grandiose names, and certainly not the ones they would carry around when they were pro-heroes if their father had any say in it -and if Endeavor had anything, it was a say in all matters pertaining to his children. They were never meant to be permanent, and Izuku had settled on Styxfire not long after completing the minor regulation form.

The ceiling to the complete Registration form was when they reached 11, but combined with his father's urge to speed their education along they were doing it early. And so, they went to the nearest city hall one day at the age of 9 on a quiet sunny day to do them.

Unfortunately for the Todoroki Patriarch, things don't go the way he was expecting.

Izuku dutifully wrote _Styxfire_ in his own document, and filled the rest of the form with a bit of help from the secretary assisting them. He'd been satisfied with it from the start, since he'd been only seven and filled two pages of possible names. This was it as far as he was concerned. It didn't reveal what his Quirk did, nor was it too convoluted.

(Plus, it reminded of his father's Hellflame. As ... _challenging_ as Endeavor was, Izuku couldn't help but base his Quirk's name on the Number Two Hero's Quirk.)

But then...when it was _Shouto's_ turn to do the paperwork, things immediately went sour.

His brother had taken the document, looked at their father straight in the eye and without missing a beat or breaking eye contact, he wrote out _Half Hot, Half Cold_ on the name margin.

The tiny, hissed noise the Number Two Hero made at that was so low that Izuku barely heard it.

As Shouto dutifully finished his forms Endeavor's face had done all sorts of minute little twists and twitches, but given they were in a public setting the man had an image to upkeep and so, he could only nod and accept it.

And Shouto knew that, if the shine in his eyes was anything to go by.

Rarely had Izuku seen him so gleeful.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

It should be funny. His brother probably thought it was. In the same twisted way Natsuo got enjoyment from spitting curses at their father.

(In the same way that had Touya leaving.)

 _Anger only leads to anger,_ Izuku thinks one night as he stares out the window of his bedroom. The sky outside was dark and full of falling snow, reminding on that night.

This thought gives him pause for how well it _fits_. Looking at his family, he really can't find it in himself to refute this. It's a truth that burrows deep in his chest, settling in right next to Styxfire.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

"He's up to something." He hears Shouto hiss through clenched teeth one day after training, low and hostile. Their father was already gone, needing to return to his agency for extra work. Izuku thinks it might be some important mission; he quietly wonders if he'll see it on the news.

Nursing his own bruises, Izuku has to wait several moments before he finds it in himself the strength to speak up; "Why do you think so?

"He keeps staring at you." Shouto gulped down nearly half his water bottle before he spoke next. "He's thinking of doing something. I don't know why." _And I don't like it._

Against his will, Izuku's lips twisted into a faint grimace. He's not sure why he was expecting something else, really. Years of living with Shouto should have numbed him to this already.

It was always like this.

Some faint, tiny little part of Izuku thinks this shouldn't be happening. There shouldn't be this much distrust, should it?

Maybe. He doesn't exactly have something to compare. His memories of before living here had grown quite fuzzy over the years, no matter how much he tried to keep them preserved.

"Maybe it's a coincidence." Izuku finally spoke up, fiddling with his own water bottle. It's cool and nice in his hands; sighing, he lifts it up and rested it against the back of his neck to quell his overheated body. Styxfire squirmed restlessly in his chest at the sudden cold, but he paid it no mind. "My birthday is coming up, maybe he's thinking of that?"

His only response was an almost disbelieving huff as Shouto put his water bottle away and stumbled to his feet. He thinks he hears a muttered right come from his older brother, but the dual haired boy didn't leave him time to ask as he stumbled out of the room, limping slightly on his good leg. Izuku's left staring at his retreating back, stomach dropping slightly in his belly.

If it had been done years ago, when he was still small, starved and constantly jumping at shadows, Izuku would have flinched. Here, he just accepts it with a quiet, resigned sigh.

Right.

Birthdays weren't really celebrated as much as they _passed_ in the Todoroki household, like the seasons throughout the years.

Fuyumi would be in charge, an extra allowance from their father allowing her to go out and buy a cake for the birthday person. It's the only opportunity they really have to eat sweets, so each year the two youngest wait for those dates to come longing -although Shouto utterly refuted to let his excitement show each time Fuyumi and Natsuo brought home a cake for him.

Honestly Izuku thought there was a cosmic joke in there about his brother's love for strawberry cheesecake but for the sake of not waking up the next week with ice cubes stuffed under his pillow, he knew better than to open his mouth.

Natsuo wasn't the only one who inherited their father's vindictiveness.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

It's only a week later that he realizes that yes, Shouto was most certainly right and he probably owed his older brother something now.

 _Shouto's always right,_ he thinks sourly as he sits at the back of the car, staring out the window as buildings pass by, each more and more opulent as they head into the higher class districts of Tokyo.

After several years of this same song and dance, he'd grown used to being randomly plucked from his daily routine, get fawned over by a couple of stylists that hovered all over him like flies complaining about his freckles and hair and how red and green were decidedly _not_ combinable colors outside of Christmas, and then promptly shoved into the car alongside his father to look good on camera.

These events were few and far in between given how Endeavor was adamant that he and Shouto focused all of their attention to training. Of that, Izuku was grateful.

 _Doesn't make this any better,_ he grumbles mentally, eyes shifting upon catching familiar flashes of light. He internally winces at what's ahead as the car pulls up into private property.

The moment the driver opens his car door, he's blinded by the bright flashes of light.

He's expecting it, but half the time it still catches him off guard enough to make him see spots. Oh well. Izuku fights through the blurriness and focuses on stepping out without making a scene, following his father closely through the crowd.

He can't see anything beyond the suits and flashes and matching dresses -his height really, truly worked against him in nearly all aspects of life- but Endeavor through some feat of magic manages to part the crowd like Moses did with the Red Sea.

Might not be magic though, if the scowl he catches on his father's reflection in the glass door at the entrance of the building was anything to go by.

The fact he was in his hero costume made it even more effective.

His father pauses at the entrance. Izuku mimics him, discretely glancing at the man from the corner of his eye. Piercing blues stare right back.

"Behave."

With that, his father turns away, opening the door. Izuku almost frowns at Endeavor's back, nearly breaking the pleasant mask he'd put on.

He's not Shouto. He's not going to disappear in the Minister's garden, go skating after covering the estate's lake in ice, then return with wet clothes that would leave huge puddles of water across the expensive lobby carpet and deadpan ask if they can go home yet.

There's a reason Endeavor brought Izuku along most of the time compared to the rest of his siblings, even if he had the most destructive Quirk out of the two youngest Todoroki children.

Izuku knew his job; he'd very well perfected it over the years of being forced in front of the camera. The only thing he has to do is stand next to his father and play the part of the stereotypical obedient young son.

 _At least nobody bothers me when I'm around Father._

It's a bitter truth. Over the years as he grew, Izuku noticed along the way that most often than not everyone seemed to agree to an unspoken rule and always left a diameter around Endeavor clear that only a few brave souls foolish or a reporter that was really, really desperate for an interview ever stepped through.

Inside there were far fewer reporters -they were easy to spot, with their cameras and constant twitching and restless movements, like sharks smelling blood. Instead, Izuku found himself quietly beholding the sight of a large hall filled with heroes in costumes, people in suits and the occasional child standing by their parents.

The sight pleasantly surprise him.

There's other children here. Ranging from toddlers sticking close to their parents' legs to skulking teenagers hanging in groups, they seemed to be everywhere, their presence quiet and subdued by the number of adults roaming around but still noteworthy. Izuku surveils the crowd, fascinated by them and how they seemed to reach out to each other, forming a merry little bands as they went.

 _So that's why I'm here,_ he ponders as he stares at a group of children roughly his age. A part of Izuku wanted to reach out, curious at the sight of these little beings so similar to himself.

(He has to wonder if they train, just like he does. If they toiled under their parents' expectations until their legs could not hold them up anymore.)

There was no real way they grouped up, and Izuku silently found himself jealous by the ease at which they joined up. He's far from the only child staying near their parents, but Endeavor had a dark, opposing aura around him than none of the other heroes with children possessed.

It's a wonder why they're here at all. And Izuku. Especially Izuku.

 _To give a softer image,_ one man with a job title Izuku couldn't even begin to pronounce had told his father over Izuku's head like he wasn't there. True, he'd been seven at the time, but he was still intelligent enough to understand what his father's employee meant. Hero Politics was one of the topics his teachers drilled into his head as soon as he started his studies.

According to his father's PR team, nothing smoothed Endeavor's image and made him more human than having someone like Izuku at his side, small and meek compared the titan that was his father. Endeavor was built for power over speed and it showed.

Discreetly, he looks down at himself, feeling a bit of dejection at what he found.

Training had certainly strengthened his body, but it was clear he would never get anywhere near as physically big as his father, or as tall. Shout had certainly inherited Endeavor's height, but Izuku's features were solely of his mother from the hair down to the shape of his eyes to of course, his height.

Styxfire certainly wasn't helping his case.

 _Maybe I'll be more of a defensive hero,_ Izuku thinks as he looks up again, checking to see if he was still near his father -who was talking to a group of men Izuku did not recognize- before looking around the large chamber again. _Use my fire as a shield, to protect or capture._ _It's the only way I can use my Quirk effectively against people._

As he stood there, lost in his thoughts, his eyes caught onto the shine of something metallic and shiny, startling him. Izuku had to blink a few times to focus on this interruption.

The metal gleam that caught his eyes did not come from a piece of furniture; instead it was from a person. Specifically, their elbows.

 _Tensei Iida,_ Izuku recognized almost immediately, watching with interest as the young man ambled around, chattering with a smaller boy at his side. _Recently debuted as a Sidekick after joining the Iida agency. Graduated from Yuuei._

The trademark exhausts on his elbows were a dark gold color, gleaming under the light as they were displayed proudly by the young Sidekick's short sleeves. They seemed almost out of place given how big they were, and should have restrict the man's ability to move his arms comfortably, but Ingenium seemed to have no problem with their size.

How did they even work? What material were they made of?

They're fascinating to look at. If Izuku had enough courage -if he was stronger, less scared, less hesitant, _more like All Might-_ he would have walked up to the young Hero and asked him questions burning at the tip of his tongue.

"-are you alright?"

Izuku blinks.

Curious blue stare back from behind a wall of glass, a feet from his own eyes. It's the kid that was talking with Ingenium. He was looking down at Izuku with an expression of mild interest. The

Wait, if the boy was here that meant-

Izuku's throat clams up. He turns his head just in time to see Ingenium smile sheepishly. "Sorry if we startled you. You were staring..." The teenager trails off, his expression a toss between amused and hesitant. Not surprising, given who Izuku's father was.

Izuku feels the rush of blood to his cheeks like a slap. Waves of shame and anxiety make their way through his veins as easily as Styxfire, and he drowns in it.

"O-oh." Ashamed, he bends his head forward in apology. "I'm sorry, I-I was just….staring off! I apologize if th-that bothered you." Any attempt at sounding refined is lost in between the stammers.

Izuku wanted to die.

Just let a hole open up under him and swallow him whole.

 _Maybe I can just make that hole myself. Just burn the floor under me and keep going until I'm six feet under._

He gave his father a quick look. The man was standing several feet away, discussing in a low tone with a group of men in suits that from their body shape, were definitely not heroes or retired ones. Endeavor didn't seem to be paying attention to him, so Izuku let out a mental sigh of relief.

At least he didn't have that to worry about.

For how long, he had no idea.

 _Best to make the best of it._

"That's quite alright!" Ingenium chuckles, a hand raised apologetically. "I can't exactly fault you for being curious, can I kid?"

"It's still rude, though...s-so again, I must apologize!"

"He's right, you know!" The smaller Iida interjected, flailing his arms in a way that had Izuku tracking his hands' sharp gestures with interest. "You didn't mean anything wrong, we can't fault you for your curiosity!"

While he's loud in a way Izuku was only used to when it was associated with anger and frustration, the boy was so earnest and energetic in the way he spoke it took him for a loop. And despite his height, he looked young.

Maybe he was his age…?

"R-Right." Izuku mutters, looking up to meet the other boy's gaze.

Suddenly Ingenium perks up at the boy's side, looking away to their left.

"I think mom and dad are calling." The man speaks up gently, tilting his head towards a elderly couple sitting by one of the buffet tables. Izuku noted with fascination how the two older hero waved upon noticing their sons looking at them, gesturing them to come. Ingenium

The two boys nodded and hurried out to their parents with only a nod and a gentle farewell towards him. Izuku deflated on the inside at their exit. That was fast.

...had...had he creeped them out?

Maybe.

Probably.

Great.

Now he's alone again.

He doesn't want to just stand here though, and he certainly doesn't want to be by his father. Not at the moment. Endeavor trusted him to at least have some sense, so he wasn't watched like a hawk. It's not like he can get into much trouble in a place filled with heroes.

Or maybe the man was too busy making connections with members of the Hero Commission to pay attention to him.

Either way was a logical assumption for Izuku to make.

He wanders off to the side, bypassing the bountiful buffet. Darting around a few people, Izuku scurries to what he sees is an open door leading to some sort of terrace. There's some decorations there so it was part of the event, but there were no people as far as Izuku could see, which is what he wanted right about now.

It's easy blocking out the masses when he's next to a man who eats and breathes stay away from me if you don't have anything pertinent to say, but alone? Izuku's never been the life of the party, per say. He knew how to smile and look the part.

Being part of the festivities? It was a whole other thing.

There was a difference between being a wallflower and actively participating in such an event. It required strength, social awareness and confidence that Izuku...just didn't have. There's a part of him that is frustrated, but he's long come to accept it as the truth.

Besides, being around so many people? Having so many heat sources around him, swarming him? Having that much noise and chatter around for hours on end?

Just the thought of it makes him feel faint and dizzy.

 _What worth will I have as a hero if I can't handle a crowd?_ Izuku thinks cynically as he leans against the stone railing of the balcony, using its cold, sturdy surface to hold himself up. Styxfire squirms at the sudden wash of cold from the granit, but he's nonplussed. The winter cold wasn't as bad today, thankfully. _It's just sad. Father would be ashamed if he knew-_

Wait.

What was that?

There's movement below that has Izuku's eyes snapping into focus. Styxfire squirms pleasantly in his chest, the flames stimulated by what he sensed was a large heat mass somewhere down below him.

 _Who could be out here at this ti-_

When he catches a glimpse of yellow-gold down at the gardens below the balcony, Izuku doesn't hesitate to head for the stairs, all his father's rules and commands cast aside like a leaf in the wind.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

He's not sure he could get used to this.

His newly reconstructed lungs ached with phantom pain each time he breathed. In his gut, he felt a distinctive absence, a hollow place where his stomach should be.

It was an exercise of will to maintain this form.

Surgery after surgery had carved away at his strength, to the point he could only use One for All for a few hours a day. This time would shorten as the years went by according to Recovery Girl, and the thought silently horrified him. To be stripped of his strength like this, to be Quirkless again when he was needed…

...the only consolation Toshinori had was that he'd _finally_ done it.

All for One was dead.

The world went on, unaware of the horrors that had transpired. Of a battle that had decimated a mountainside, crippled the Number One Hero and rid them of the greatest threat to peace Japan had ever seen. Nana could rest in peace.

There's a small ounce of comfort in the knowledge that only a select few knew about this fight, or the villain. All for One had mostly been more of a myth,a tale lurking in dark forums, back alleys and word of mouth amongst villains. But now he was gone for good and his empire had crumbled.

Toshinori had completed the duty set out by the first user of One for All, what his predecessors had been striving to do for decades. A task his predecessor had tried to carry out for over a hundred years, ended with Toshinori.

There was pride in this, but mostly relief at the finality of it.

Now he needed to look over the next generation, up until his own clock reached its end. His time as the Symbol of Peace had a tangible deadline now. Toshinori felt a mixture of unease and acceptance at this prospect.

All of his life has been as a Pro-Hero -as the Symbol of Peace. He was far from an egotistical person, but he couldn't help but wonder how Japan would be once he stepped down.

What would he do after this?

Toshinori can't help the frustrated sigh from leaving him. His shoulders slump dejectedly, the simple movement pulling at his too tender wound. It only made the pain more noticeable, more present; in that moment the wound felt like a brand -a brand of his victory, but also his failure.

A silent threat, slowly ticking down to zero.

The Pro-Hero exhales quietly. What a horrible thought.

As much as he preferred staying here in the quiet garden, Toshinori had responsibilities. This galla was one of them; the people inside were waiting for him, no doubt. He should get back before someone came searching.

Defeated, he spins on his heels to ascend the balcony stairs-

Green.

Bright, familiar green, staring up at him from the ground with a mixture of curiosity and wonder.

Well, this was familiar.

Joy and amusement blooms in his heart at the sight, the unforgettable face of the freckled child -the very same kid who had once given him a panic attack when Endeavor appeared like wrath to reclaim his progeny. Those wide green eyes brimming with the curious innocence only a child could have instantly chased away the dark cloud hovering over Toshinori's head.

It only takes a moment for the name to pop up in his head and worm its way to his mouth, so memorable their last encounter was:

"Izuku." Then he realized how familiar he was speaking to the young boy, and quickly backtracks to something more polite. A sheepish smile stretched his lips. "Y-young Todoroki, it's so good to meet you again!"

Izuku blinks at him, too wide eyes staring up at Toshinori like a deer in the headlights. "...you can call me Izuku." The boy replies softly after a long stretch of silence. " I'm not my father."

 _Well, yes._ A part of him responds awkwardly in his own head.

Toshinori was pretty sure Izuku missed a few things to be compared to Endeavor. Namely, the crown of flames and the squinted scowl. Oh, and the height. Izuku barely reached his upper leg at this moment.

God, the boy was still so tiny. He looked less like a person and more of a life-sized doll with those fancy clothes of his. Toshinori was certain he could pick the child up with one hand. The big doe eyes weren't helping. Izuku didn't even reach his hip yet and while yes, he must be around eight or nine at this point, he was still so _small_.

It seemed like Endeavor's genes really didn't stick with this boy.

Good, in his opinion. He was having a really hard time figuring out what a Izuku with more prominent Todoroki traits would look like. Even if he can't get a solid picture in his head, it's still terrifying to think about.

Nightmare material, truly.

"Right." Toshinori coughs awkwardly, hiding a wince as a flare of pain travels up his spine from his still tender wound. "How have you been, my boy?" He asks, desperate to steer his mind away from the mental image of the youngest Todoroki wearing his father's trademark scowl. Oh, the horror. "It's been a long time!"

Izuku offers him a tiny, reserved smile. It's the kind of grin Toshinori often saw with a lot of children when they met him at events or out on patrol; excited to meet All Might, but nervous and subdued because their parents were watching.

At that thought, he can't help but look around expecting to see Endeavor materializing from the shadows. Thank _god_.

"I've been alright." Izuku replies, ducking his head in an odd bobbing motion like he wants to shyly look at the ground, but quickly realizes something and his green eyes dart back to Toshinori's face. It's an odd motion. "I-I've been studying real hard, especially in my hero studies. I think I'm doing okay." Izuku continues with that even, polite tone, lacking none of the boasting Toshinori was expecting a child his age when they were talking about themselves-

Wait.

Hero studies?

"You study Heroics, already?" Toshinori can't help but frown lightly. Isn't he a bit young for that?

"I have to." Izuku tells him like it's obvious, blinking up at him. "I'm going to Yuuei." In that moment something flickers in the child's eyes, a passing emotion that was darker and sadder than Toshinori would have expected given the polite smile the little boy offers him.

"What an ambitious boy!" Toshinori can't help but say cheerfully, trying to make that smile bloom again -anything to get the child to smile again. "Your father must be proud!"

There's a pause where Toshinori knows he's stepped on something delicate as the child's face seems to close off.

In that moment, Izuku seemed a lot wiser than his age. "Father's especially adamant about training." He says, voice low and soft.

Almost...resigned.

 _Adamant?_ Toshinori frowns as he takes in the boy. His gangly limbs, wild curly hair and small stature, smaller than a child his age should be.

Now that he looked more closely, Izuku had muscle -lean and wiry, hidden under his clothes but evidence of an active lifestyle. Had...had Enji been training his children for hero work?

For how long?

Toshinori is suddenly struck with the mental image of Izuku, smaller and rounder-faced like he'd been when they first met, standing in front of Enji while the man gruffly taught him how to punch properly. It's a concept that makes his insides squirm uncomfortably.

Surely he wouldn't…?

Almost as if sensing his unease, izuku suddenly shakes his head and seems to backtrack. "N-not that I'm complaining! I need to train. You see, my Quirk…."

Izuku hesitates.

There's something there, Toshinori realizes discreetly. He notices it in the way the boy speaks, heavy and full, a weight no child his age should bear. It's strange. It's important.

He can't help but commit it to memory.

"...my Quirk's really, really strong." The boy finally confines in him, voice low as if it's a distasteful secret. His brows crease, the corner of his lips twitching downwards. It's not a look a child should be doing. "But it's also destructive. I-I need to train, otherwise I might hurt somebody."

Here again, Toshinori notes the way he utters that last phrase. He can't help but think that Izuku was about to say more, but cut himself off.

The Pro-Hero quickly looks back at their last meeting. The sparks of black flames(?) that had escaped the boy's fingertips when he became nervous. A fire Quirk, like Endeavor. Unusual coloring, certainly unique, yes, but it didn't seem that dangerous, especially with a father like Enji Todoroki.

His former classmate had to have a good lid on his child's Quirk training, no? Even if he was young, he probably trained the boy -at least enough to help him keep it in check. Izuku just said that he trained because of his Quirk's nature and because he wanted to follow his father's footsteps.

...which made the fact that a nine year old was telling him he needed to train so he would not hurt people all the more disturbing.

 _What are you teaching him, Todoroki?_

"It's commendable that you want to protect those around you." Toshinori kindly tells the boy, who was waiting for his response with unusual patience for a child his age. "But, young Izuku, you must remember there are a lot of Quirks that can result in injury to the user and the people around him."

Izuk makes a face. "I know." The green haired boy mutters. "It doesn't feel the same."

"Are you sure?" Toshinori was starting to feel desperate. "It's not the Quirk that is dangerous. It's all a matter of how you use it."

Izuku is silent. He's frowning at the ground so hard Toshinori fears he might go cross-eyed.

"Maybe." The child finally admits after a moment of silence. "I-"

Suddenly Izuku stops, eyes catching something behind Toshinori.

Stomach dropping, the Pro-Hero follows his gaze and finds Endeavor standing by the door, arms crossed and eyes fixed on the two of them, unimpressed.

Immediately, Toshinori's mood sours.

He says nothing as Izuku walks past him, the young boy whispering a quiet goodbye as he went to join his father. There's really nothing he can do.

It doesn't stop the uncomfortable feeling in his nonexistent stomach from making itself known.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

As Endeavor drags him away, Izuku's father is quick to reprimand him in a hissed toneL

"Why did you talk to him?"

It's hissed lowly, too quietly for anyone to overhear.

"He looked tired." Izuku finds himself muttering, averting his eyes away from his father. He knows Endeavor hates him doing so -heroes, according to him, were _never_ supposed to cower- but he can't find it in himself to follow the man's teachings. Not right now. "I wanted to make him feel better." "It's what heroes do, no?"

"He's All Might." Endeavor grumbles as they get closer to the balcony's door leading back inside. There's no one here, thankfully. "The Number One Hero has more important things to do than to cater to what you think. He's in charge of maintaining the balance of our society, he has not time for _lamenting_ on nonsense."

He was speaking in that tone, the same he uses when he's discussing things he believes Izuku couldn't understand. And most often than not, he was right on that front.

This was one of those cases.

And yet...

Izuku was young, he knew that. He was young and green and very much ignorant of how the world worked. He knew little of how heroes operated beyond what his father had shoved into his head or what he saw on the television. His grasp on the real world was very much restricted to the house he spent the last few years living in. The house he'd begrudged lay come to think of as his home.

But that didn't mean he didn't have thoughts of his own. That he didn't think on the matters he couldn't grasp quite yet. That he didn't have opinions.

And when it came to All Might, he had plenty of those.

He remembered a pair of hands covered in scars, faint and barely there, evidence of a life full of fighting and strife. He remembers the time his father would begrudge fly skip their training in order to heal from a villain fight, or the times he'd seen his shirt ride up and show a small assortment scars.

Izuku was ignorant, yes.

That didn't make him blind.

And All Might-

-he didn't look like he was doing well.

"He's human, isn't he?" He whispers quietly, low under his breath. More to himself than the colossus at his side.

Endeavor says nothing as he leads him away.

(The quick, shielded side glance he gives him though, tells Izuku that he had been heard.)

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Life goes on.

Waking up, eating, studying, training, eating and training again, until his limbs barely held him up and his Quirk reserves dipped -this was an endless cycle Izuku had long become too familiar with.

He knows better than to complain about it.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Not even two weeks and a half weeks after meeting All Might, he's dragged to the car again.

Izuku's not very happy about it.

He also can't really complain about it, too.

Thankfully the winter was giving away to spring, though not without a fight; half-melted ice crunching under his expensive boots as he trudged obediently after his father towards the family car.

The driver's already there, opening the door for Izuku. His father goes around the car and does it for himself.

It doesn't surprise him one bit that once inside Endeavor doesn't give him the time of day, too busy talking on the phone with someone. Izuku can't quite grasp the subject of the conversation, but it has something to do with his job. Commission? As in the Hero Commission?

As those thoughts swirl inside his head, their gazes meet. Blue versus green.

Izuku ducks his head and looks away from the Pro-Hero's serious, unimpressed face, ashamed and embarrassed at having been caught staring. He knew his father hated it.

 _I have enough of that from the media,_ the man would tell him through a sneer.

To keep that from happening again, Izuku just stares at his feet while the car rumbles under him.

He keeps his gaze there as the vehicle twists and turns, taking him away from the estate and into places unknown. Heat signals fly by too quickly for him to study them. Styxfire ripples under his skin, sharing his unease at the winter cold outside.

He's not sure how much time passes until the car finally stops. Endeavor immediately gets out in one swift, smooth movement; Izuku has to wait patiently for the driver to open the door. Doing it himself would only result in a reprimand about his manners, even thought he was perfectly able to do it. Complaining won't get him anywhere though, so he keeps his mouth shut.

After what felt like an eternity, the door slides open.

Outside the cold is biting, today being one of the last true winter days as spring clawed its way into Musustafu. Izuku fights a shudder as Endeavor walks around the car, the man's higher than normal body heat chasing some of the cold away even with the wide gap between them.

It's a mild relief from the weather.

 _I wish I can hibernate,_ Izuku thinks as his father silently beckons him to follow with a glance at his direction.

He falls into step next to the behemoth of a man with practiced ease. Endeavor looks on ahead, but as they walked Izuku caught him glancing down at him. It only ever lasts for half a second, but Izuku still catches some of those darting glances.

He does that a lot, Izuku notes absently as they walk down the street. Stare at him from the corner of his eyes with that ever uninterested expression that somehow still managed to retain that intensity that made Izuku nervous no matter how often he was on the receiving end of it.

Oddly enough, it started up after Touya left.

 _Don't think about it._

To take his mind away from that subject, Izuku focuses his attention to his surroundings. Just in time too, as Endeavor comes to a stop in front of a building. Izuku blinks up at the edifice, blinking as he takes in the elegant wooden sign hanging over the glass entrance.

 _Shizukana Niwa Cafe_

He can feel something in his head sputter and die.

What.

Wait.

 _What-_

"Izuku." His father's sharp voice has his legs moving before his mind can snap back in attention, making him stumble a bit as he walks after his father who was about to enter the restaurant.

The man has to duck a bit to enter through the door. Given his own much smaller size, Izuku simply walks under his father's arm as the man leaves the door extended for him to pass, his cold blue eyes scanning the cafe for threats.

It's a small place; tall glass windows, tropical and elegant furniture decorate nearly every available inch of the chamber. It was quiet too, with people in high end clothes scattered in tables or couches. They were either reading, on a computer or phone or speaking with other guests in quiet, hushed voices.

This peace falters briefly when the door opens and Izuku and Endeavor walk in.

Without his hero gear Endeavor should be harder to recognize ...except the flames on his face never really went out, at least not without conscious effort, so more than one head turns at the sound of the door opening and even more keep staring.

Izuku wants to retract his head into his coat and disappear. He fights off the urge to shove his wool beanie down to cover up his eyes. Last thing he needs is falling over on his face.

It's hard to keep focus though, with the storm brewing in his head.

A cafe. His father had brought him to a cafe. The smell of sugar and confectionary was faint but present, dredging up faint memories of walking by candy stores with his mother and begging for a sweet until she relented. Just the memory made Izuku choke up and even more off balance.

What were they doing? Why here of all places? This wasn't one of the gallas -was it one of those social dinners he'd overhead Endeavor talk about on the phone? If so, why bring him of all people?!

The more he thought about it, the more uneasy and anxious he feels.

There's something going on here -something strange that was most definitely not part of the routine he was used to. A mystery that Izuku wanted to solve and run away from at the same time.

His father was beyond his concerns; he walks up to a man in a dark uniform who seems to momentarily freeze up when he realizes Endeavor's attention was on him. Few words are exchanged, too quick and hushed for Izuku could grasp. It only makes the squirming in his gut worse.

What was going on?

Before he can gather his thoughts into a paltry amount of coherence, Endeavor turns away from the staff member and heads deeper into the establishment. Once again, the only thing Izuku can do is follow and hope for the best.

They go down a long hallway and a smooth wooden floor that made Izuku feels squeamish about walking on given his boots. There's multiple doors on either side of them, all identical save for a little plate with a golden number next to them. With his Quirk, Izuku could sense the thermal presence of a few people behind those doors, though there weren't a lot.

Some form of private meeting?

Was that what his father was here for? If so, wouldn't his agency be better?

 _If so, why am I here at all?_

To keep himself sane, he reads off the numbers on the door.

One…

Two…

Three…

Four…

Five…

Six….

Seven…

Endeavor stops.

Izuku mimics him. There's a single, small blob of heat beyond this door. It barely moves at all.

A single eight is proudly etched on the panel next to the door his father came to a half in front of. Hesitantly, Izuku tries to exchange a glance with Endeavor; the man however ignores him, reaching out and knocking on the dark wooden door.

There's no answer at first. Then, a voice speaks up:

"Who's there?"

Izuku could feel his eyes grow wide.

No way.

No, he imagined that voice. No no no, it couldn't be-

Izuku's feet go rigid under him, rooting him on the floor. He registers his father opening the door too late and he freezes up further, panic clawing at him because there's no way, it was impossible he was imagining it _why was she here-_

Green.

Every single one of the chaotic, incoherent splutter of thoughts and panic in Izuku's head reach an abrupt, silent halt.

The woman standing on the other side of the door is a little plumper than he remembered. Her hair is pulled, and she was clutching her purse with a death grip -a purse that upon the door opening dropped down to the floor with a solid thud, and the owner never spared a glance down.

Midoriya Inko was too busy staring wide-eyed and frozen at her son.

Slowly, Inko took a tiny step forward -then another, stumbling as she walked closer and closer to him. Her steps grew faster, more frenzied, the ground almost as she charges through the doorway.

Izuku feels no danger. Rather, something snaps in him, a bind flying loose and suddenly the fear and anxiety is gone, evaporated to leave behind mind numbing relief that floods every part of his body. He can only cry out louder than he'd ever dared before in his life and rush forward to meet her in the last few feet left between them, leaping into his mother's arms at the same time that a strangled sound leaves his lips:

" _Mom!"_

She catches him just like she used to do when he was a kid. Arms wide and inviting, the relief, desperation and sheer joy in her eyes making him crumble and break even further.

"Izuku," she breathes into the crown of his hair, exhales shaky and hitched, her lips brushing against his forehead. Her grip on his form is almost bruising lay tight; he's not sure the tip of his feet are touching the ground anymore. He doesn't care. "Oh my god, you're h-here, my sweetheart…"

 _You're here,_ Izuku thinks in his head, throat too clogged up to speak. The only thing that leaves him is a hiccuped noise.

"I'm not going anywhere, honey." His mother whispers against his hair, her voice just as soft and warm as he remembered it being.

Her grip is tight, almost too tight, but like the fact his toes barely touched the floor, he does not care for this either. All he knows is the warmth of her body and her smell.

"I am here."

It's only then that Izuku allows himself to cry.

* * *

 **Ya'll got rick rolled.**

 **I never said you would be crying because of angst. FEELS ATTACK BITCH, HOPE IT'S SUPER EFFECTIVE.**

 **Thus officially concludes the Childhood Arc!**

 **Consider this the therapy chapter before we head into Yuuei. Or at least the lower half of it lmao, Touya's part dragged on for too long. Bakuboi is coming in two chapters and oh boy, this is gonna be a jumpy ride. After next chapter the updates are going to be more commons, solely due to the fact that one, the chapters are going to be smaller and two, that is easier to plan out than the Childhood Arc.**

 **Toshinori's relationship with Izuku is going to be slightly different than in canon. It's going to be a bit before One for All is brought into the picture, but I hope you'll enjoy it. Hint: teacher instincts should be relabelled parental instincts.**

 **(If this keeps up by the time Endeavor turns back around with his head finally out of his ass and a proper redemption arc, All Might will have run off with all of his children lol.)**

 **Also, I love the fact that canon to this story Izuku's reaction to someone talking to him that he's not forced by Endeavor to interact with or is a family member is to bluescreen and crash like a old computer trying to load up Crysis.**

 **Truly peak social skills there, thanks dad.**

 **If you guys think I made Endeavor too soft this chapter, just remember the cardinal rule of this fic: if the talking walking trash can on fire does something good, then by the law of equivalent exchange he's gonna do ten steps back in the future.**

 **Up next:**

 **Yuuei Entrance Exams loom over the horizon. Izuku doesn't feel ready. Shouto does, though not in the right way. Here's hoping Yuuei is ready for their new students.**

 **(Spoiler alert: They aren't. Toshinori, on the other hand, will be very happy to see tiny OP bean again.)**


	10. Chapter 10

"You're getting greedy, Kacchan."

He gets no verbal response, but it's expected. Izuku sighs, flopping down on the grey rock.

Kacchan swims lazily near the shoreline, seemingly studying him with his big, bulbous eyes. The sun strikes his scales just right enough to make the pale body of the massive fish gleam gold as it brushed against the surface of the water.

Izuku wonders if he can recognize him. He certainly did, given how massive the pale gold koi had gotten over the years under his care. In fact, all of the koi were getting a bit too fat. The gardener might end up complaining about it.

Which meant he would be complaining to his father and that in Izuku's book was a bad, not good, very very bad idea.

Endeavor never said anything about his little hobby -as long as it didn't cut into his education, Izuku guessed he wouldn't- but pushing it wasn't something he wanted to do anytime soon.

He stands up and dusts his clothes off, making sure to get rid of twigs and clumps of dirt that might have stuck to his shirt and pants. The last thing he wanted was to make a mess when he got inside.

Throwing one last look at the pond -and Kacchan's big, plump body and frayed fin pushing their way through the flock of colourful koi, practically pushing the smaller fish aside and only making his name even more evident- Izuku walks back to the house.

As he does so, the young fourteen year old boy tilts his head back and closes his eyes briefly, humming as the sunbeams kisses his face gently.

 _This was a nice day._

The air was warm, not too hot, not too dry and filled with the sounds of running water from the pond, swaying branches dancing in the wind and the distant calls of birds chirping across the estate. The gravel under his sandals crunched nicely.

It was an idyllic day.

 _Too bad Shouto wasn't here to see this,_ he thinks as he reaches the front door. Stepping onto the porch, he reaches for the knob. _He shouldn't be cooped up so much._

It should be odd. Shouto liked to study, yes. He was nowhere as studious and 'book crazy' as Izuku to quote Natsuo, but he still harbored a healthy curiosity and drive to learn. It didn't mean he was averse to spending a few hours doing nothing outside.

Indeed, Izuku knew with certainty that Shouto wouldn't be inside during such a nice day.

The truth of this was very tall, very stern and often wrapped in a crown of flames.

With the date of the entrance exam quickly approaching, Endeavor was even more demanding in his training. More hours of work, more hours of study, more bruises and aching backs and nights spent tending to wounds or sitting in black flames, waiting for his Quirk to sooth the injuries away while Shouto sat a safe distance and finished up bandaging his wounds.

A part of Izuku didn't fault their father.

 _He wants us to be at our best._

An onlooker would have found such a belief endearing; that their father spent so much time working them up to be the strongest they could be before they reach Yuuei spoke of his dedication. To an outsider, of how he cared about them and how determined the Number Two Hero was to see them reach the very top.

The truth was hardly as charming.

It was their father's desire, for them to be high tier Pro-Heroes. For Shouto to be Number One.

Izuku didn't care for his explanations, for that dream. He hadn't for a long time.

 _It's all just numbers anyways._

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

He remembers the last time he'd realized it.

It had been a cold, freezing December afternoon when the thought had hit him while he was bundled up between Natsuo and Fuyumi, watching television in one of those rare moments of freedom where Shouto wasn't around.

"...does he know?"

There's no need to explain things. Not when they caught him looking down at his own arms and wondering.

At first, there's no answer. The afternoon continues on as normal, seconds trickling by as cold settles in his chest. Then, Natsuo reached for the remote and the sounds of the movie were lowered. It's Fuyumi however who speaks up, her sweet voice ever quiet and fragile like paper rice:

"No." She tells him gently, the minute twitch of her facial muscles barely betraying her true feelings about the matter. "Father never told him."

At his side, Natsuo shakes his head.

"None of us could bear to do it." He confines with unexpected softness. He's firm and warm against his body and it's but a mild comfort when faced with this realization.

Izuku closes his eyes, fighting the urge to break down. He understands the meaning hidden behind her words. What she was promising to him.

 _It's your secret to tell._

"Thank you." He tells them honestly.

Fuyumi offers him a tiny, shy smile, reminding him of another similar expression he'd seen when he first stepped into the Todoroki estate. The one she used when she wanted him to know she could keep a secret. As for Natsuo, snakes an arm over his shoulder and presses him close. It's a comforting squeeze.

Conversation over, they all turn back to watch the television.

All is well.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

That same night, the promise was easy to make. If his siblings said nothing, if his father said nothing-

 _I want to take it to my grave._

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Endeavor was late.

Izuku tried to keep his foot from bouncing against the floor of the training room. His nerves were getting the best of him despite his best attempts at quelling it.

At his side, Shouto looked as unruffled as ever. Only the slightest crinkle of his brows betrayed the confusion they shared.

Endeavor was never late.

Their father was a perfectionist and punctual to a point. The fact he was not, so close to the start of their lesson, had them both on edge. If he couldn't make it, their father would have told them at least thirty minutes before to start working on their own, and that he would evaluate things the following day. This -the silence, not knowing- _this_ was new and uncertain.

...did something happen?

He feels like eels are squirming in his stomach. That can't be it, right? He glances at his brother. Shouto was sitting cross legged and just like him, kept staring at the closed door of the dojo. The silence was starting to get to him

Gathering confidence -or rather, channeling his worry into the urge to act, Izuku speaks up:

"Do you know where…"

Footsteps. Loud and heavy. Immediately Izuku feels himself perk up, relief flooding his veins. Shouto glances his way, uninterested, as the dojo door slides open.

Their father is not in his training gear, oddly enough. He's in his uniform. The flames around his shoulders are dimmer than they would normally be when the man was in his suit; only the twin curls of flames on his face had any kind of strength.

Instantly, Izuku knows something different was going to happen today. Their father looks down at them, lips pursed.

"Get up."

They're on their feet before he finishes his sentence. Endeavor regards them for a longer time. Izuku hears a bird call in the distance.

"Follow me."

They go. Out of the dojo and towards the living quarters. Another strange thing. Izuku holds his tongue. At least, until their father instructs them, in that ever sharp, short no nonsense manner, to get their outside sportswear on and some coats.

That's when the curiosity eats at him faster than Styxfire.

 _What is father planning?_

Skipping training was unheard of, so Endeavor must have a very important reason to forego their daily training. Izuku manages to hold his curiosity in until their father steers them towards the main road of the estate. A familiar black car was sitting there, gleaming in the sunlight. That's when he can't stop his mouth from running free:

"Where are we going, sir?" He asks, glancing at Shouto. His brother was staring with narrowed eyes at their father's back. It's nothing new, but it didn't fail to make that small part of him that was still hopeful for some sort of resolution sag in defeat.

(He's an idiot. Why after all these years did he still think things could change?)

"We won't be having our lesson."

At Izuku's side, Shouto makes a face. Izuku himself falter, taken aback. _So I was right._

"...pardon?"

Endeavor grunts, a noncommittal sound that does very little to inform them what was going on. Thankfully, after a brief lull the man speaks. "We're going to my agency."

Izuku promptly tripped and would have smashed his face against the floor if Shouto didn't immediately reach out to catch him. It's reflex, at this point.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

He's never been to the Endeavor Agency before.

It might be unusual given how often his father used him as a living breathing prop during events, but knowing Enji Todoroki, it was actually pretty in character of the man. Izuku being at events had a function; each appearance was sparse but carefully planned to maximize publicity for a man that hated the whole publicity side of heroics.

In all honesty, part of Izuku agreed with his father on that.

Heroes should be heroes, not entertainers. They were here to protect and serve, not to smile in commercials and waste work hours as slaves to the media, for their ranking might depend on it. Unless they worked themselves to the bone like his father, more often than not it did.

Which rounded back to the reason why Endeavor never took them to his agency: there was simply no need for that. The agency was a place of work and there was absolutely no reason for Enji Todoroki to bring two of his kids to run around the facility when he should be handling reports and patrolling.

That, and Shouto would probably find a way to freeze all the pipes in the building. Because his brother was just as much of an overachiever as Izuku.

...which might be the reason why when they stepped into the massive building, all gleaming glass and metal, Endeavor had Shouto walking right at his side and was watching him like a hawk.

Izuku himself was mostly forgotten on the man's left. He took that opportunity with both hands, head twisting and turning up to look at every inch of what he could see.

The lobby itself was huge. Tall, arching walls that embraced a mixture of modern architecture and something more regal. There was a lush red carpet on the entrance door that ran all the way up to the dark wooden desk of the front desk.

A woman was manning it, her hair a brilliant shade of orange that refracted the light like metal. It was mesmerizing and stole Izuku's attention entirely. That _had_ to be a Quirk -though was it a secondary Quirk mutation or her actual Quirk? She might not be a hero given her position as front desk -which was not less of an important job!- though he had to wonder what her hair was made of.

Metal? An organic alternative, like Kacchan's nitroglycerin?

What would it feel like under his fingers? He doesn't sense anything beyond normal thermal heat for a human being coming off her, but what kind of other properties did it-

"-and this is my youngest son, Izuku."

His brain screeches to a halt. Izuku blinks, turning his gaze towards whom his father was talking to.

...a small group of adults, young and older, wearing an assembly of work clothes and costumes. Pro-Heroes. And a few sidekicks. Some people he could recognize, others not. And they were all staring at him inquisitively.

There's some part of him that makes a soft sound with a voice not unlike his mother's. _Oh, Izuku._

He has to agree with it. Oh, oh dear.

 _Pay attention, Izuku!_

By the side glance his father gave him, the Pro-Hero was likely thinking the same thing. Whoops. Izuku could feel the sharp burn of shame on his face. He probably looked like a tomato right now. A freckled tomato.

 _Kill me._

Turning to the assembled sidekicks and Pro-Heroes, Izuku bows as deeply as he can.

"My name is Todoroki Izuku." He tries to make himself sound as serious and polite as he can. It's a mild success. There's a waver towards the end. " It's nice to meet you all."

There's some hellos and nice to meet you, Izuku in response. They're all polite but not meek. Of course they are -these people are around his father a lot. They had to have spines.

Speaking of Endeavor, the man is talking to one of the Pro-Heroes, He's tall with dark hair and a scar running across his nose. He's not wearing a uniform, just simple clean clothes. Izuku can't recognize him. He was not a new Pro-Hero though, given the hints of grey hair around his ears.

Might just be the lack of costume that made him hard to identify.

"Is the Hall cleared?"

"Yes, sir." The man replies, smoothly, looking at Endeavor in the eye. "Kikyo is finishing setting up everything."

Izuku blinks. The Hall?

What were they talking about?

(He had a feeling that his father wasn't simply going to show them around the agency.)

Endeavor and the man exchange a few more words and then start walking towards one of the open hallways. The rest of the adults follow, and SHouto sticks to their father's side in a surprising display of obedience. Izuku trails behind, looking back at the front desk.

The lady was looking at him -the one with the metal hair.

With his brother and father's backs being turned, Izuku gives in to the urge and quickly waves at the receptionist with the weird looking hair. Against his will, its jerky and stunted. Not a great attempt at a wave at all.

The woman stares at him like he's grown two heads, befuddled. She looks like she's completely taken off guard.

Heat floods his cheeks at this.

Oh. Okay.

Maybe might have not been the best idea.

Embarrassed, he quickly scurries after his father. If he hears faint giggling behind him, Izuku takes it and stuff the memory in the darkest corners of his mind.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 _This...is big._

The wide open space was incredible. It was several times bigger than the two training room at the estate _combined_ , and Izuku couldn't help but cran his head up to stare at the asphalt and metal ceiling with wide eyes.

Was this place underground? He remembered taking an elevator with father and Shouto but, still, how did something like this fit in here?!

The Hall, as it turned out, was the Endeavor Agency's center training room and it wore its name well.

Every part of the place was reinforced; the pillars were thicker enough to be as wide as his father was tall, and there were extra supports made out of metal on the ceiling and walls, providing additional support.

Overlooking the massive area was the platform they were all currently standing on. It was a control room, equipped with cameras and control panels that hurt to eve look like, so much was the sheer abundance of buttons and levers.

How could anyone keep track of this?!

The manager of the Hall, apparently. Izuku was pretty sure that it was due to the fact that he had eight arms.

Kikyo Juni was a tall, gangly man with grey-purple skin and big, almost fish-like dark eyes. His arms were long and slender, giving him an almost spider-like appearance. Each hand was equipped with four fingers with wide, roundish pads at their tips instead of nails.

Izuku watched him from his father's shadow with fascination. What kind of training must he have to use all of this? He didn't seem to be a Pro-Hero -he didn't have that much musculature and Izuku did not recognize him at all -was he strictly in a managerial position?

"Which one are you looking for?"

His tone of voice showed his strength, though. Sharp, to the point. The kind Izuku was sure his father would like to have working for him.

"Gear up three of them." Endeavor speaks, arms crossed. "Middle difficulty."

"Yes sir." With that Kikyo's arms were flying around the control panels, almost too fast for his eyes to catch up. It was mesmerizing to watch him work.

Izuku frowns. Middle difficulty…? Wait, was his father looking to make them train here? Was that why they were here in the first place?!

One of the younger staff members cough. He's a Sidekick. Izuku recognizes him for the flaring fin-like ears on either side of his head.

"Huh, sir? Are you sure about putting kids through that?"

His father has his back to him, but Izuku can feel the power behind the pointed glare the Pro-Hero gives the sidekick. The young man shrinks back -but as he does, another taller, older man steps forth, his wind-swept purple-red hair bouncing with the slight shake of his head.

"Sir," The man -Firefist, Izuku recognizes him from the dark red gauntlets on his forearms. "-if I can suggest, how about something more hands on?"

Endeavor raises a brow. The Pro-Hero then does something unexpected. He turns to Izuku and Shouto.

"What do you think, kid?" The Pro-Hero smiles at them -at Izuku, unsurprisingly, because Shouto was crossing his arms and looking as approachable as their father on a good day. "How about a one on one?"

Izuku freezes. One on one? With a Pro-Hero? He's not physically strong enough for that -training with Shouto on a good day ended with his brother squishing him into the dojo floor with his weight.

 _The only way I could fight is using my..._

"You won't fight him." Endeavor speaks up sternly.

The hero raised his hands and smiled sheepishly. "Don't worry sit, I'll be careful-"

"He'll kill you." Endeavor replied ever bluntly, silencing the man.

Silencing everyone. Really silent. Izuku's throat feels tight and restricted. It's not an unfamiliar feeling.

Shame never was.

Especially when these grown adults are looking at him as if they were seeing him for the first time. Maybe it was finally clicking inside their heads that Endeavor would not bring him here for no reason.

"Izuku."

Instinctively, he straightens his back and looked into his father's eyes. The man holds his gaze.

"Go in. Take out all the opponents you encounter." Endeavor tells him, before turning to Kikyo. "Starts the scenario."

One of the man's hands grasp a large, dark red level and pulls.

Immediately the ground shakes slightly under their feet. Izyuku stiffens, and he hears Shouto inhale at his side, his brother as caught off guard as him.

Was it someone moving? No, it couldn't be -and then Izuku feels it. The heat signatures were big. Too big. And the metallic clanking he was hearing-

Izuku's eyes widen. "...are they robots?"

"Yes." His father speaks up at his side, unperturbed by the loud whirring of machinery. "Today they are robots. Three of them."

 _Today they are robots._

Izuku wasn't enough of a fool to ignore the double meaning in that declaration. Maybe not today, but sometime in the near future it would be different.

Today it was robots.

Non human.

Machines.

Relief warms his heart; Izuku can feel it spreading through his limbs, through every vein and bone until finally, it ignites in the palm of his hands as onyx flames.

He glances at his father. Endeavor was watching with arms crossed, expecting.

 _He wants me to show off._

This was his moment. Knowing his father was watching brought up that familiar nervousness -it always did- but Izuku felt...centered, in a way. Maybe it was because there was no danger. He won't be hurting anyone with his Quirk, not unless he was grossly irresponsible with his flames and took out the support pillars.

Thankfully, Izuku was ever if not careful with them. He'd seen what they could do.

As he walks out of the control room and down into the arena, he takes a deep, strong inhale to center himself. As he exhales, Izuku opens his eyes.

 _Focus._

The first machine is in front of him. A deep, dark green with black parts. It's massive, with a wide base and large arms. A single, red camera lens mounted on a small rectangular head is locked onto him.

There's a moment where the robot looms over him, lens adjusting.

-and there's a moment after where it's gone, engulfed in black flames that burn nearly purple with fury.

Metal twists and warps with a creak, limbs falling and cables sparking as the robot stumbles and sways, balance lost. With a terrible, drawn out _screech_ it falls onto its side, and Styxfire wastes no time rendering most of the upper part of the carcass into ash. It's a sizable drain for Izuku, but he pushes through it.

There's no time for him to falter, especially with his father watching.

Especially with people watching. If he disappointed his father he would never hear the end of it and there went the little free time he had at home.

A loud droning mechanical sound and the loud whirring of machinery alerted him of another robot advancing behind him. Izuku turns around, Styxfire rippling under his skin as it picks up two more approaching heat signatures -each on either side of him.

Clearly his father wasn't going easy on him.

The first robot swings at him; a burst of black flames from his feet throws him up in the air in a backward arch, legs straight and together and arms crossed against his chest like a gymnastic. As he spun around mid-air, Izuku quickly takes note of how close the other robots are, and the support pillars around the room. Wouldn't be good if he collapsed part of the agency, though he was pretty sure the training room was reinforced to survive those pillars collapsing.

Fifty feet, a little bit more, he thinks as the floor approaches.

A burst of concentrated black flames keeps him from breaking his feet upon contact with the ground. Immediately Izuku rolls with the landing, letting Styxfire launch itself like a slingshot up the veins of his arms and out of his fingertips.

Silver shadows light the room as two long strands of obsidian flames swirl around him, cutting through the robots' metal carapace like it was hot butter. Izuku goes for the upper body -he doesn't need to destroy the entire robot after all, only just enough to keep it from functioning.

The three robots lie around him, shattered in millions of little pieces.

Silence.

From the control room, one of the sidekicks lets out the tiniest, most noiseless _meep_ from the observation deck.

Izuku crans his head to look at them through the thick glass.

If anything, his father's employees looked faintly horrified by the sheer amount of destruction Izuku had brought upon their training room. He feels his shoulders slump as their gaze travelled from the remains of the robots to him.

His father, however, is stone. His strong, unimpressed voice carries all the way from the control room.

"Start up the simulation again."

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

If Izuku made them apprehensive with his display of power, Shouto freezing all three robots into icicles the moment he stepped nary a foot into the arena had them mute for the rest of the visit.

His father's eyes gleam with smug pride and not for the first time, Izuku feels exhaustion at the sight of it.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 _That_ day comes sooner than Izuku is comfortable with.

When he wakes up on the morning of the Entrance Exam, he feels like he's been plunged into a haze. Getting dressed is a quick, robotical affair. He takes his training clothes and puts them in a backpack to carry for the test, and goes to the kitchen to eat.

Fuyumi had breakfast ready. Shouto's already eating. Not a single hint of Natsuo's presence is nary in sight. Or Endeavor.

Izuku doesn't question it. His nerves don't allow him to. He greets his sister and sits down to quickly wolf down the rice and vegetables she made in a hurry. The sun's barely up.

As he's finishing, his curiosity gets the best of him. He pauses to look at his sister with questioning eyes, silently communicating with her. Fuyumi sighs and jerks her head towards his plate, encouraging him to eat.

"There was a situation that he was called in by the Commission to deal with. There's a driver waiting outside for you and Shouto."

Izuku looks down at his plate,a soft noise leaving his lips. "Oh."

It's not like he was expecting Endeavor to accompany them. He's not a child; he certainly hasn't been for a while, and their father wasn't one to hold their hands as much as throw them forward and tell them to stick the landing or else he would do it all over again.

Still...part of Izuku wished he would have at least seen his father before going. It's childish to hope that just to see the man's reaction though, so he stuffs the dejection into a box and locks it away.

At his side, Shouto keeps stoically shovelling the food into his mouth. He says nothing and Izuku doesn't try bringing him into the conversation. The dark, steely look in his mismatched eyes said enough about his mood.

When they're done, Fuyumi accompanies him all the way to the door.

"Izuku," She starts, hesitating. He can see the conflict in his sister's eyes -how torn she was between congratulating him for entering an actual school, and being resigned that he was following their father's plans.

He makes a questioning noise towards her, pausing in front of the young woman. "..what is it?"

After a second of hesitation, she hastily leans down and kisses him on the forehead. Izuku closes his eyes and lets her, enjoying her familiar warmth. He can smell her natural scent -something minty and cold, like a young winter.

Fuyumi pulls away and smiles that smile. The tiny, secretive one that she only shares with him. "Good luck," She breathes out quietly. "...take care of yourself."

He offers his own tiny smile at her, a mirror of hers. "I will."

Fuyumi's eyes twinkle in response. With that, they walk out the door.

Shouto was waiting for him there, backpack over his shoulder and a clean set of clothes on. Fuyumi merely nods his way and softly calls after him in goodbye.

She didn't dare give him a kiss like she did with Izuku. Their relationship was just too different. There's a rift separating Natsuo and Fuyumi from Izuku and Shouto. One built from loud, shouted demands, roaring fire, the still warmth of a training room and a toothy, snarling smirk.

Shouto barely allowed affection anyways, and it was only from Izuku. Years spent caring for each other's wounds, exercising their Quirks together and bracing themselves against their Father's demands had shaped their relationship into something iron tight that could not be uncoiled.

Time would be the judge of how long it would stay that way.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

They're a whole two hours early.

The driver drops them off at the school entrance and leaves without another word. Backpacks holding their sport clothes on their backs, they're left staring up at the massive tower of gleaming glass and the bright, eye catching yellow UA planted on the arching metal gate.

The school looks ...bigger than it did in pictures.

Izuku was expecting it, but it was still jarring.

 _Larger in life, I guess._

The public Entrance Exam had only been held five days prior. Now it was the turn of the Recommendation Test to take place -a test only reserved for those who were recommended by current or retired Pro-Heroes.

It had a written aspect similar to the Entrance Exam, but the physical aptitude was supposedly different. Their father wasn't allowed or refused to say what exactly it was. It made Izuku wonder what kind of test was in the public exam.

A tiny part of him wanted to be there as well. It was a foolish thought, especially given his father's stance on it and the fact it had already passed.

' _I'm not putting you in the Entrance Exam.'_ His father had told him bluntly a few weeks ago. ' _You'll end up killing someone.'_

Izuku hadn't even bothered flinching at that. Yeah, that was far too expected.

His father had been tempted to do it, though. He'd seen the conflict in the man's eyes when he called him to his office to fill out the rest of the paperwork he had to do to enter into the Recommendation Test. Endeavor, despite the constant reminding that Izuku's Quirk was deadly, that it could take a life as easily as it ate materials, wanted to show him off. Or more specifically, he wanted to show off what he helped create.

Boiled down, Izuku was still the poster child for his father.

He was the surprise sleeping hit. Shouto might be the golden goose but he was the silver one. Not quite as worthy as his brother with his rare Dual Elemental Quirk, but still valuable all the same.

Which meant Endeavor had no issue parading him around like a prize horse.

Still, he was happy not to be in the Entrance Exam. Amongst all those people? All those young people who had no training and could accidentally stumble into his flames?

It gave him shivers just thinking about.

A large part of his was grateful of his father's choice. Endeavor was never really one to put his ego over danger, but it was still surprising that he didn't put him through the Entrance Exam.

Today though, the school was also still closed. The metal gate was shut.

They were alone, stuck waiting.

Outside.

They've...never really been outside.

Not on their own.

The extent of Izuku's experiences in public that didn't relate to his father was when he spent time with his mom. He was allowed to meet Inko, but always behind closed doors. A safety risk, according to his father.

So they met under the supervision of his father or a bodyguard. They still exchanged letters, and they were far more common than their physical meetings. Izuku treasured each of them, but especially the meetings.

One memorable time Bakugo Mitsuki and Masaru had come along. Mitsuki had nearly lifted him off the ground and her husband had literally swept him up in a hug the first time he saw him. Izuku nearly cried at the smell of his nitro sweat, sickly sweet like a candy factory. He had to wonder then -and still now- if Kacchan smelled any similar. He can't remember anymore. They'd never been that close anyways when they were tentative friends, at least not compared to their mothers.

It made him want -and fear- going to his mom's house.

(He had to wonder, if not hopelessly, why Kacchan never came along.)

Inko had moved into a small apartment sometime when he was ten, but she still lived near the Bakugos. Something Mitsuki demanded, apparently. It still wasn't safe enough according to Endeavor the one time Izuku had the courage to ask...and after searching and finding multiple cases of people assaulted by villains because of their ties to Pro-Heroes, Izuku quickly closed his big mouth and never questioned it again.

He's not sure what he would do if a villain got to his mom.

As such, he kept his mouth well shut and said nothing to his father.

This however left him with one problem. A glaring problem. Something Izuku hadn't really considered until he was standing in front of a closed school with his brother with still two hours of waiting ahead before Yuuei even started letting them in.

He had no fucking idea what to do.

Shouto was in a similar basket, if the way he stood rigidly at his side was any indication. His brother was side eyeing passersby who looked back in interest, likely wondering what they were both doing standing like statues in front of the closed school gate.

They had to wait.

In public.

Alone.

...Izuku never felt this kind of apprehension before.

They had money on them. Endeavor had given them cards linked to bank accounts setup under his control. There was a small amount that came in every month starting this month, so Izuku had a bit of wiggle room to do something right now.

Only question is what.

"Should…" He poses the question slowly, licking his lips nervously. "-should we walk around?"

Shouto's response was immediate. "Why?"

Izuku fights the urge to squint at him. "Shou, we are going to bake." He replies, pointing a finger up at the sun. It was summer, so the heat was treading on untolerable. At least for normal people.

The fact that he had a heat-absorbing Quirk really helped matters.

"I can regulate." Shouto replied smoothly, adjusting the strap of his backpack. "You need the fuel."

Izuku blinks.

Fuel.

 _Fuel._

 _ **Food.**_

It feels like a light bulb had gone off inside his head. Suddenly he knows what he can do -he remembers how his meetings with his mother went.

He could take his brother out to eat something. A snack. Anything.

All alone without supervision.

The weight of the card in his pocket felt like an anchor. The grin on his lips felt light, though.

"We're going exploring." The words leave his lips bluntly.

Ever the master, Shouto's response was even blunter:

"The exam." His brother replies, side eyeing him. "We need to stay here."

"It's in two hours." Izuku points out, torn between listening and behaving, and the unexpected excitement making the tip of his limbs tingle. "We have time."

Shouto frowns, like he can't understand his reasoning. In all honesty, Izuku feels on the same boat, but his giddiness at doing something without parental supervision gives him the drive to keep pushing:

"We should take a look around," He explains, sweeping an arm towards the street. There's stores on the other side of the road. A lot of them. Lots that have things Izuku doesn't really know.

Shouto looks unimpressed, so he continues:

"...look, we're going to be here for two hours. We might as well explore."

Shouto's flat expression was all the answer he needed. Nevertheless, the dual haired boy spoke up:

"We don't need to."

"...maybe we do? Father's not here to tell us no."

...and that was that, actually.

Nothing motivated his brother more than going against their father, and there was no better proof than the fact that three minutes later they were walking around in the streets by Yuuei, sniffing about curiously.

There were just so many people here!

Izuku had been in public before, but having so many people going on with their daily lives was different than a galla or a Pro-Hero event. It was wild. It was chaotic. It was everyone for themselves -literally, as few paid mind to them as they scurry through stores, idly examining items.

A sweet smell attracts Izuku's attention quickly, the scent of baked goods sweeping down the street like a siren's call that he has to respond because how long has it been?

Shouto follows him dutifully as he plasters his face against the glass. Even from the front of the store, Izuku can sense the heat of the ovens inside. And he can smell the goods, too.

The sweet, sweet goods.

The storefront was even decked out with freshly made pastry, the enticing confections drawing his attention quickly. Shouto glanced at them for a moment, pondering. Izuku could see the conflict in his eyes.

He's tempted. It's obvious.

They never have sweets. This might be a unique opportunity. One that Izuku wanted to take, if not for the good food but for the action of doing something new. Something alone. On their own for the first time.

Plus, extra fuel was extra fuel. He'd spent the entire week stocking up his reserves but a little more might not hurt. Even if it was a minuscule amount, Izuku would take it.

At least, that made sense. Or a good excuse.

"Shouuto," He calls, tilting his head to flick his eyes back at the tempting food.

A part of him is aware that he probably look ridiculous, staring owlishly at the baked goods unblinkingly. There's a lady sitting inside trying to read her newspaper that is looking at him oddly.

He didn't care. Not when his brother is walking away, uninterested. He has to find a way to pull him back.

And a way Izuku found. Because he spotted the one thing that his brother couldn't say no to.

" _Shouuuto,"_ He draws out again, more peppy and poignant. Just the right tonality to annoy the older boy into pausing and looking back at him, irritated. "...come look, they have tiny strawberry cheesecakes!"

Never had Izuku seen his brother double back so fast.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

By the time the school's open for the Recommendation Test, Izuku and Shouto are standing in front of the main door.

The gates are wide open. A few people are walking in, far in between. There's a girl with long, black and hair and the tallest teenager Izuku had ever seen in his life. There's others as well, with wings or odd colored hair.

They were all walking forward confidently, hurrying inside like there was no time to waste.

Never before did Izuku feel his brother's presence so strongly than he did at this moment. He's always aware of his brother's location when he was nearby, his heat signature more unique than their father's or Touya. But in this moment, Izuku feels every line of tension in the taller boy's body.

Despite this, despite his own hesitation, shame and apprehension gnawing at his guts, Izuku finds the strength to smile.

 _I did it._ Izuku thinks, craning his head up to look at the Yuuei logo looming over him on the gate.

It would start soon. He's not sure what to think, really. But he knows that he can't wait. Especially when Shouto's hand closes around his and his brother tugs him forward, helping him gather the courage to take his first step forward.

 _I am here._

* * *

 **I haz betrayed you. No All Might this chapter. Next chapter ye, which is coming soon. And Inasa.**

 **And some Aizawa. Because everyone loves some Aizawa. Especially when he's wtf-ing at his students. Because he's pretty sure the tiny kid who wrecked half the course is gonna pass.**

 **Tldr, no one is ready for tiny OP bean.**

 **Also I love in this chapter Izuku saw the receptionist and immediately focused on her because it was the first person he saw. He's a fucking airhead.**

 **The last bit was to set up how alien they both are at being in public. Izuku's train of thought in those scenes is actually inspired from my own experiences. My parents really really sheltered me and combined that we lived in a remote location it kinda turned me into a lone wolf who never really saw use at being friends -or know how to procure ones. Or how to be in public alone.**

 **That sudden moment when you have money and that amount of freedom is kind of terrifying. I think it's something we can all relate to somewhat.**

 **Also, Shouto might or might not have eaten like 3 of those mini cheesecakes. Or more. It's all up to you.**

 **I will die on that hill.**


	11. Chapter 11

There's a lot more people than Izuku expected it to be.

He and Shouto are directed to a closed room with fifteen or so teenagers already sitting at a desk, pen in hand and waiting impatiently for the written section to be handed out. The tension makes the air thick and cold in Izuku's lungs.

It had been a long time since he'd been around other people save members of his family, but Izuku could see the stress lining their faces.

As he took his seat next to his brother, Izuku had to wonder if everyone here were children of Pro-Heroes. He hoped not. There had to be some people that were scouted, either by a Pro-Hero, a member of the Hero Commission or a staff of the school.

In all honesty, Izuku had no idea how the recommendation process worked -Endeavor did not care to waste time explaining things he did not need to explain to push them forward- but these would be students couldn't be _all_ related to Pro-Heroes. That felt unfair. The Recommendation Exam had to be done by merit, right?

In a way, it made him somewhat guilty, to be here. He wasn't even able to use his Quirk on other people, not without leaving them with horrible disfigurations. Shouto deserved the recommendation more.

...but given the alternative would be going to the Entrance Exam, Izuku doesn't know what to think anymore about the topic.

He's...he's not sure he would have even tried getting into Yuuei, if that was the case. Too much danger.

It was a headache to think about.

The sound of the chair on his left moving and someone dropping on it startles him out of his revery. Surprised, he turns his head to look at the newcomer -and felt his eyes nearly pop out of his skull at what he found.

The boy was _tall_.

Not just tall and massive too, well on his way to match Endeavor's frame if he kept growing. His shoulders were broad, his hair cut short against his skin, his chin strong and his biceps almost as big as Izuku's head.

 _...he almost looks like a third year. I'm scared._

He watches the other boy, bug eyed. Eventually, the other starts to notice. He turns his head towards Izuku, dark eyes peering down at him curiously. The taller boy offers him the largest smile Izuku had ever seen on anyone's face.

"Heya, buddy! I'm Inasa!" The teenager says loud enough to rattle him, but somehow avoiding every head in the room from turning their way. He makes a thumbs up. "You feeling ready?"

 _Huh, no._

His smile was the most blinding, brilliant thing Izuku had seen in years, save All Might. Izuku tried to respond, his throat too tight for him to speak. His own smile feels more like a wavering grimace.

Inasa chuckles and looks away, picking up his pen and fiddling with it. His smile fades, expression turning more nervous, likely contemplating the task ahead. He looks like he's about to say something, but a loud yell startles them both and makes them look towards the front of the room.

"Good morning, listeners!"

Even after a long time of not listening to the radio, Izuku knows that voice, that signature call. And with that bright yellow, upright hair and leather clothes, the mounted speaker on the tall, slender man's chest -that was without a doubt Yamada Hizashi, Hero name Present Mic!

The tiny, restrained sound that left his lips sounded more like a repressed squeal. At his side, Shouto gave him a wary side glance. On his left, he hears Inasa let out a low chuckle.

Present Mic steals all of his attention once more, his loud voice effectively drowning out any of the candidates' attempts at talking to each other. Not that they even _would_ , given the severity of the task they were about to undertake.

"Alright listen up kids, I won't say this twice! We got a _big_ day head for all of you...!"

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

He could already feel the beginning of a headache forming, and it wasn't even noon yet.

"You alright there, Aizawa?" A voice next to him dragged him out of the black cloud, turning his attention to the small, white-furred animal sitting in the chair next to his. Nedzu was peering up at him with just a hint of worry in his tiny, dark eyes. "You seem kind of tired."

"I'm fine, Principal." He responds, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Just a long night."

Nedzu's tail gives a slow flick of interest. "Right, you had that thief bust last night, correct? That's why you returned late from your patrol."

"Hmm."

"Congratulations on that, by the way. I heard they had been making a mess out of Musutafu's jewelry stores for weeks!"

"It was nothing." Aizawa waves off the praise. Mumbling, he continues. "...just criminals who got swept up by their own ego. They barely knew how to use their Quirks at all."

"Oh. How boring."

The corner of his lips twitch upwards at the animal's polite, but slightly disappointed tone. For all Nedzu tried to make himself look like a reserved, polite person, the principal delighted in gossip just as badly as Midnight did. A wolf in sheep's clothing, so to speak.

He's right, though.

Patrol last night had been boring. And long.

The only thing he did was respond to a dispatch directing him to an isolated store stuck between a run down dinner and a hair salon. Somehow the thieves had managed to bypass the alarm, but the owner had set a secondary set of alarms independent of the first system that were tied to the closed cases full of jewelry after having caught wind of the string of robberies.

Expensive, but it allowed Aizwa to catch the villains red handed.

It wasn't even a difficult fight. Just idiots that merely relied on the strength of their Quirks instead of training or skill. Unfortunately for them and luckily for Aizawa's desire to go to sleep early, the trio had Emitter Quirks. The fight had barely lasted fifteen minutes, at most.

Processing them had taken close to two hours.

...paperwork was the bane of his life.

A large, bright object moving at the edge of his vision quickly reminds Aizawa of the other source of his headache. One that wasn't Hizashi, for once.

All Might looked sort of absurd, sitting in the assigned seat that was half the size it should be to hold such a massive person. Aizawa wasn't sure why the man was even in his hero form, given that everyone in the room knew his true one. It was energy wasted? Maybe he was attempting to look more impressive?

Either way, Aizawa could not be bothered.

Let him waste all of his energy if that's what he desired.

He peers at the obnoxiously loud blond suspiciously. All Might looked far too happy for it to be normal. His excitement was far more palpable than it was a few days ago for the Entrance Exam. Was it because of the Recommendation exam having a higher quality cut of candidates?

 _Maybe he knows one of them?_

Aizawa's not even sure why Nedzu invited the man to come work at the school. It seemed like more trouble than it was worth.

Thankfully the news hadn't broken to the media yet, as Nedzu wanted to wait for the very last few days to announce it. Especially after the Entrance Exam, to avoid people flooding the test in a desperate attempt to get in and be taught by the current Number One Hero.

The Entrance Exam was over though, and after the Recommendation Exam the news would break. Aizawa could read the writing on the wall for that. There's no doubt this semester would be hell.

If he was lucky enough, he might get to kick out an entire class again.

Aizawa narrows his eyes as the television screens light up and Nedzu cheerfully announces that the physical examination would start soon. All Might straightens up so fast Aizawa nearly misses it. At his other side, Nemuri crosser her legs and gives him a sharp, elated grin. This was one part of their work that she enjoyed dearly.

Aizawa?

Not so much.

Half of the kids recommended were just brats. The other half thought they were god's gift to mankind. There was also a small amount of seats assigned for Recommendation examinees, so the fighting would be vicious.

 _Here's hoping there's something worthwhile in this lot._

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

As soon as the written aspect is cleared out and they are sent to change into workout clothing, they're quickly ushered out for the physical section. It's not a long walk, but it feels like forever. Izuku makes sure to twist his head around and look at everything he could see. Even the sight of lockers as they were pushed through a series of hallways had him peering at them curiously.

...when was the last time he'd even seen school lockers…? Izuku doesn't remember -and he doesn't really want to think about it. It was uncomfortable to think about.

He keeps to his brother's side, Shouto a silent presence in front of him. None of the other candidates were really talking; instead, they were eyeing each other, calculating, or were visibly nervous. The only stand outs were Shouto himself, a passive, unconcerned spire at Izuku's side, and Inasa, who led the group right behind Present Mic.

He wasn't talking either, but there was a small skip in his step. He was far cheerier than expected for a teenager of his stature. At least from what Izuku could understand, since he'd never really been around other people his age. Either way, Inasa was most certainly a standout.

 _Wonder if he will be in my class..._

Soon, Present Mic kicks open a series of doors and calls out to them:

"Here we are, listeners!"

Sunlight waits for them outside. Izuku squints, eyesight adjusting to the sudden burst of light. When they do, he feels them widen at the sight stretched out in front of him.

A long, winding structure that seemed to have crawled out of the mind of someone who had one too many mushroom towered over his head, just past a white stone arch. Pillars, half-built structures, boulders and all sorts of other obstacles blocked their path, not letting Izuku see the end of the track, but he knew it had to be long. Really long.

Half of it was even in water, and it looked like deep water too.

.. _.how...how did they build all of this?_

He tried to shake off his shock. It was just an obstacle track, that's all ...just, with a few more things added than Izuku thought was necessary.

Or sane.

Or safe.

 _I'm not helping myself._

"Alright, come on over!" Present Mic, enthusiastically waving them over to the left side of the track, right next to the arch marking the start. There's a table there, with a neat pile of what looks like...papers?

No, not papers, Izuku realizes as he watches the Pro-Hero pick the first one, showing the big black 1 stamped on it's white surface. Gesturing one of the candidates over, the man pulls off a thin film at the back of the paper and then presses the front on the teenager's jacket, where it stays. Oh. It was a sticker.

Izuku eyes the table with renewed interest.

"C'mon, we don't have all day, kiddos!" Present Mic says, waving them forward. Shouto steps up, as do more than half the candidates. "Slaps this on your clothes, make it reaaaal visible, otherwise it's on you if the judges don't recognize you!"

Izuku follows close to his brother, internally wincing at how the other candidates start that strange, competitive posturing. Side glances, lips curling into the faintest of smirks, raised brows and unimpressed tilts of the chin were plenty. He's pretty sure a few of them recognizes Shouto, and some take a pause when they look at Izuku -which is a telltale sign that they recognized him too.

Great.

At Present Mic's commands, they end up being split in groups of six. There was no real order to the way the Pro-Hero simply ushering them into small herds of fumbling teenagers. With Izuku standing next to his brother, they ended up in the same section.

Inasa was amongst their group, to Izuku's quiet delight. He had a big, confident grin on his face, the kind that made Izuku's shoulders relax and part of him feel at ease. Their eyes met, and despite the fact he said nothing, his grin widened. It's not the kind of smirk some of the other candidates had. It wasn't daring, wasn't trying to intimidate him.

It was a silent, cheerful _we can do it._

In a way, it reminded him of All Might, Izuku thought as the taller boy's eyes then shifted over to Shouto, right on Izuku's other side.

The change was immediate.

His wide smile twisting into a scowl, and hostility radiated from the short-haired teenager. Without another word, he spins on his heels and walks away to stand on the other side of their group, a move that was so fast Izuku swears for a moment that he feels a harsh breeze brushing past him.

Izuku watches him go, feeling lost and intimidated at the sudden personality shift.

 _What was that?_

"Izuku." Shouto's voice snaps him in attention. "Focus."

He exhales softly. Right.

 _Now's not the time to get lost in my head._

Styxfire churns in his chest. It was well fed for this occasion, but that didn't stop the flames from yearning, responding to his nervousness. He knew what to do, but there was a stark difference between planning something and actually executing it.

Especially since failing was not an option.

Almost as if to torture him, their group's turn comes quickly enough. Too quickly, at least for Izuku's frayed nerves.

"It's your turn, kiddos!" Present Mic declares five minutes after the third group leaves, gesturing towards them.

At the command, they step up to the starting line. Izuku keeps his eyes trailed on the track ahead, scanning the obstacles. His eyes lock onto a particular tall, spire-like metal structure halfway through the track. There.

Just what he needed.

Present Mic's voice sounded out like a thunderclap:

" _ **Go!"**_

The crackle of Shouto's ice is muffled by the sudden sound of howling wind. Izuku 's eyes widen as the tall boy from before leaps into the sky, taking to the air with the grace and ease of a bird.

A wind user? That explained what happened before with his brother!

The rest of the candidates start running right after them, dodging as best as they could the trail of ice Shouto left in his wake.

Izuku is not one of them.

Instead, he patiently waits as the last of the hopefuls take off. His heart hammered in his chest wildly and he takes a slow, deep breath to keep it steady. Then he turns to Present Mic, who was watching him worriedly. Not an unexpected reaction, given he was being left in the dust by the other candidates.

At least for now.

Pulling at that well-fed pit of fuel within himself, Izuku bows as deeply as he can at the Pro-Hero as he feels Styxfire travel down his spine and pool at his feet, waiting impatiently like a starving dog tugging on a leash.

His apology comes out as a vaguely hearable mumble:

"I'm really, really sorry."

"Eh?" Present Mic's face twists into a frown. Izuku doesn't blame him for the confusion. "...are you alright kiddo-?"

 **B O O M.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

His first thought was that they all looked pretty much like last year's lot of hopefuls.

Conniving side glances, daring smirks, petulant glares -things Aizawa had long realized were normal. Especially amongst a group of teenagers that were competing for such a small amount of seats. Over half of them would be rejected by the end of the test.

Recommendation students were generally a bit better in terms of manners, given they were either scouted by Pro-Heroes or were raised by them, so they knew how things worked. But that also made the whole exam much more tense, since none of them wanted the disappoint the person who recommended them.

Every last one of them had a deep drive to win.

Unfortunately for these hopefuls, only a handful would be selected.

One by one, the groups went through the track. First, second, third set went as expected. Aizawa watched them intently, noting down the numbers of those he found interesting. So far nothing out of the ordinary.

Then the fourth group came.

As soon as Hizashi gave them the greenlight, things went wrong.

One of the brats -the short one with green hair- did not run out after the others, instead of staying back. It was one of Endeabor's kids, Aizawa realizes with a frown. Nerves, maybe? His brother did not even glance back before rushing out, ice pushing him forward at blinding speeds.

If he failed, Endeavor was going to be a mess to hound off.

All Might was staring intensely at that one screen still showing the start. Maybe he was thinking the same thing? His expression was more closed off than Aizawa would expect from the man, that infuriating smile of his still there but wavering. He seemed to be deep in his thoughts. There was a glimmer of confusion in his eyes.

Like he doesn't know what to think of the kid lingering at the start of the track.

It's not Aizawa problem though, and he wasn't here to access what the Symbol of Peace was thinking. He was here to evaluate, and that's what he turns his attention to.

Endeavor's other brat seemed to be doing fine, gliding on a sheet of ice towards the finish line. Right behind a kid that was manipulating what seemed like wind to fly across the track.

Now that was interesting, Aizawa remarked as he leaned to the side, propping his head up with a forearm. For all of his over energetic acting the boy seemed to have a good grasp on his Quirk, and if he kept his rhythm he would likely be the one to cross the -

 **B O O M.**

Any ounce of fatigue leave his body as the speakers made the loudest, most ear-splitting static sound Shota ever had the dishonor of hearing in his life.

And he's been around Mic for years, so _that_ was saying something.

It was horrible, to put it mildly. A screech of static mixed with a louder, low bass sound that rattled him down to his bones and had him grinding his teeth to the point of pain.

 _What the fuck was that?_

A quick glance around the control room showed that everyone was thinking the same thing. He's not the only one to wince at the horrid sound.

"Look at screen fourteen." Nedzu's sharp voice sliced through the quiet murmuring amongst the teachers. "The sky drone. Look."

And so Aizawa did, focusing on one of the larger screen showing footage from a drone posted high above the track.

There was something blitzing through the track.

It was a ball of...black and purple... _fire_? It looked like fire, but it didn't move like one. There was no smoke trail either. Shota straightened up in his seat, eyes narrowed as he focused on the screen following the second Todoroki child.

The kid was flying.

Flames were coming out of his hands and feet, roaring loud enough that it nearly drowned out all other sounds the sky drone picked up. He was zooming through the track like a comet, high above the rest, utterly annihilating the second to last candidate, then another, then another, then another -up until he's nearly at the middle of the pack.

Still far from his brother's level and from the first spot, but he'd just crossed one third of the track within two second, so Aizawa was willing to give him _that_.

The kid landed with a tumble high up on one of the metal spires halfway through the course. He pauses, seemingly catching his breath before crouching low like he was about to leap.

Which he did.

Taking that _**metal**_ spire with him in a blaze of obsidian fire.

The entire top half.

Just.

 _Gone._

Aizawa leans back on his seat.

Alright.

That...that happened.

"What an interesting development." Nedzu's smooth voice breaks the stunned silence hovering over the room. "Seems like a mutation of Endeavor's fire Quirk."

Nemuri snorted from her seat. "That's an understatement. I've never seen Endeavor's flames do something like _that_."

She was stating the obvious, needless to say. It was one hell of a mutation, if the way it incinerated the metal structure had anything to say. How hot where those flames, to be able to _do_ that?

Were they even flames?

Aizawa did not even want to _think_ what would happen if a human got caught in the crossfire. At least the kid seemed aware of the danger. He must have stayed back to give himself room to work, and even now he was keeping high up in the sky, avoiding the main pack of candidates.

Movement on his side had him turning his attention away from the screen, even briefly. All Might has a small smile fixed on his lips but there was a frozen look on his face. Like he's unsure what he's seeing but his mind hadn't quite found what kind of reaction their owner wanted to make.

When he snapped his attention back to the screen just a second after, it was already over.

The wind user got through the gate first, the other Todoroki child passing in second. And right after, the green-haired passed in third place. Landing with a tuck and roll through the finish line in a manner that spoke of repetition and practice. When he stood up, it was with little discomfort or pain. He was even brushing his clothes off, utterly nonchalant in his movements.

There's silence in the control room. Aizawa takes all but a second to contemplate things before he turns to Nedzu. The principal was looking at him, already guessing.

"I'm taking him."

Behind him, Vlad huffed.

"He's all goddamn yours, Eraserhead."

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

He crosses through the finish line at Shouto's heels, Styxfire carving a path through dirt and leftover ice from his sibling's Quirk. The tuck and roll is easy, years of training allowing him to land with relative ease and little injury.

It's not his best landing, but he had to cut Styxfire off early. It was a race, yes, but he didn't want to leave a deep trench for the other candidates to climb through.

Across the finish line his brother stands, a silent statue turned away from him. He's silent -not an unusual thing, but Izuku recognizes the silence. It's the gloomy kind of silence, the one where Shouto's shoulders are drawn tight and his eyes are shifty. The kind of silence that wraps around his brother like a cold, icy blanket and wards off any attempt at warming him up.

It's the kind of silence Shouto slips into around Endeavor, and because of that Izuku finds himself at a loss for words when he walks towards his sibling carefully. Their father wasn't here -why would his older brother feel the need to be like this?

"What's wrong?" He asks, coming up to his brother's side. "What did you say to him?"

Shouto looks at him blandly. "Nothing. I said nothing." He repeats.

With that, he turns away and starts walking towards the main building, after Inasa. It leaves Izuku standing at the finish line, feeling a little bit lost, a little bit down, and with no real way of addressing it.

Already he could hear the rest of the candidates catching up, and with nothing else to do Izuku starts walking after his brother. He doesn't hurry to catch up. Shouto didn't seem like he wanted company, anyways.

Izuku is feeling similarly. Why would Inasa shut down like that?

He'd seemed like an upbeat person...

Izuku knew better than to think that it was unusual of the other boy. He'd only known Inasa for a total of three hours, two and a half of which was spent in complete silence working on their own exams. He could never claim to know the boy -and Izuku was far from silly enough to believe he could know a person's general disposition in such a short time span.

Still.

That's the fastest he'd seen a person ever drive away someone.

If Shouto hadn't said anything though…

...maybe sometimes just being was enough to provoke a reaction.

The more he thought about it, the more it fit. After all, Izuku knew better than anyone else how simply existing had consequences.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

"An interview?!"

Izuku wanted to bury himself in a hole and die. He's not the one who shouted out that exclamation after Present Mic gathered them all up again to explain the last part of the exam, but if he had more courage he might have been. Or at the very least whispered it under his breath.

He was done for.

Social interaction was not is forthe. He knew that from day one. He was reminded of it every time his father brought him out of the house. He can't hold a conversation with a non-Todoroki or Midoriya member to save his life.

The interviewer was going to take one look at his spluttering face and send him on his way. Izuku could almost see it, like he had a foresight Quirk. And not for the first time, he wished he had one. Anything but Styxfire.

 _Relax,_ part of him thinks, the tiniest part of Izuku that wasn't shaking in its boots because if he messed this up then he didn't know what he was going to do with his life. _You did well in the written exam, you know that. And you got third place in the physical. You'll pass_.

Shouto shifts at his side, his brother sensing his inner turmoil as easily as he could sense heat. His brother's hand finds his own, larger, slender fingers wrapping around his securely. For all prying eyes his brother seemed unaffected, looking ahead like a stone statue, undaunted, but the small squeeze he gives Izuku's hand told another story.

He lets himself bathe in the warmth of his brother's body and those around him, sinking into his thermal senses and staying there. Closing his eyes made it even better. It's a comforting feeling. Centering. Calming.

"Todoroki Izuku!"

...which disappeared just about a second later when he hears his name. His eyes snap open.

He's being called.

Oh no.

Looking up to the front of the waiting room, he finds Present Mic watching him, clipboard in hand. The man gives him a blinding smile that fails at being reassuring. And he's not the only one looking -more than a few of the other candidates waiting around impatiently turned their heads to stare him down.

Only Shouto's hand tugging on his own reminded Izuku that moving was a thing and yeah, maybe he should do that.

He stands up. Hand slipping from his siblings, he strides as fast as he can through the room, avoiding the other candidates' stares in favor of looking at Present's Mic left shoulder. The man was wearing his Pro-Hero costume, and Izuku focused on the leather fabric and small metal studs of his jacket to keep himself centered.

"Hello there, kiddo." Present Mic tells him in a quieter voice once he reaches the front, gesturing at the doorway. "C'mon, right this way! Let's not waste time!"

Wordlessly, Izuku nods quickly.

Present Mic didn't seem to hold his muteness against him, instead ushering him forward through the door, down the hallway and towards an inconspicuous looking white door.

"Should I…?"

"Go right in, she's waiting for you. Best of luck, kid!" Present Mic informs him with a wink. Before any other word was exchanged, the Pro-Hero spun on his heel and rushed to go get another unfortunate victim to feed the other interviewers with.

Throat tight, Izuku turns his attention to the door.

 _She...?_

Frowning, Izuku places his hand on the door and gently pushes it open. The moment he steps inside, his eyes lock onto a pair of bright blue ones. And then he notices the purple hair. And the red glasses. And the pale white suit with purple corset.

It's Midnight.

 _Guess I'll just die._

"Take a seat, Todoroki," The woman tells him with a small, polite smile, tilting her head to the side like she knows exactly what special brand of anxiety she was causing him.

There's only two seats in the room, facing one another. No desk or other furniture, just Midnight, two chairs and the pen and clipboard she held on her lap. Since she was using one of the chairs, Izuku does go to the other one. Exactly as he does most things in a public setting when there's someone else's attention on him.

Badly.

"It's okay, kid." Midnight tells him kindly, raising an eyebrow as he fumbles into his seat. Oh, why did the chair feel so uncomfortable?

"I'm n-not really good at this." Izuku confesses quietly.

The woman hums.

"I think you're doing quite fine."

"We barely started." Izuku pointed out not so helpful for himself, only to instantly regret it because getting snarky with his interviewer was a great way of beginning things.

Midnight shrugs, unbothered.

"You haven't stared at my chest once, so you're already a cut above most, kid."

Izuku squawks and nearly falls off his seat, so fast he tilts his body away from the Pro-Hero. Humiliation and embarrassment make his face burn. He probably looks like a tomato right now and that was bad because if there was one thing Endeavor's staff constantly say to him when they dress him up for gallas, is that red and green do not work well together.

 _I'm dead._

 _I'm going to crawl under a rock and die under there._

His spiralling train of thought is derailed by Midnight's loud, boisterous laugh. It takes hm far more time

Oh.

He'd just said that out loud.

"...let me just leave."

This time Midnight laughs. Izuku wilts even further into his seat.

Once she's done, Midnight takes a breath. She scoots closer, setting her chair justso their knees would be a feet or so away from each other. She rests her clipboard neatly on her lap and puts her pen on it. Now her attention is solely focused on him -but this time, Izuku doesn't feel nearly as nervous.

And the main reason was her smile.

Gentle. Comforting. Not pitying but rather understanding of how he was feeling. In a way, the small, patient grin she offers him kind of reminded him of his mother.

Izuku has to wonder if she'd ever had to deal with a nervous wreck like him during this test before.

"You're kind of nervous, aren't you boy?" _Yeah, I kind of am._ "Just take a breath. How about we start small?"

"Small?"

"Small questions." Midnight tells him, adjusting her position on her chair. "Well, _small-er_. Not that they are any less important, though. The goal of this interview is to get to know you as a person and as a prospective student. We want to hear about your Quirk and all, what kind of training you have, but we also need to know about the important things."

Izuku frowns.

His confusion is evident, for Midnight clears her throat. The smile lessens to something more serious, yet still yielding.

"Your ambitions, kid. What do you want to do?" She crosses her arms and peers at him intently. "Why do you want to be a hero?"

Styxfire does a jump in his heart, sparkling like a firecracker.

 _Why do you want to be a hero?_

What a loaded question. Maybe more loaded than she realized. Or maybe she knew what it meant. She was a Pro-Hero after all, and far from green. If anyone knew the importance of that question, it would be someone with her years of experience.

 _I feel like she's tricking me. That isn't a small question at all._

"I want to be a hero," He starts, hesitating, thoughts and ideas flowing through his brain faster than he can assemble them into a cohesive order. Thankfully, he had more than enough experience in keeping his facial expression blank. "...because I want to help."

Midnight purses her lips. "Don't you want to be a hero because of your father?"

Izuku could see the trick question a mile away. It's something he was expecting.

"To be honest, no." He admits, shaking his head. "I've wanted to be a hero before I met my father. Before I even knew who he was, or before I got my Quirk." Izuku pauses, considering. "And then…"

For a moment, he falters.

He still remembered ever so faintly _that_ day. The jolt of Styxfire activating for the first time, the color of Kacchan's eyes, how the flames made his friend's skin shimmer a ghostly, ethereal silver. The way the sand grew twisted and blackened, turning into glass. The steam of Backdraft's water as it fought against the tiny, stubborn flames, so small and innocent back then.

Izuku remembered his own unease, from back then. Even as a child, he'd felt it -he'd known the danger.

 _And for the safety of everyone..._

In a moment, he knows what he wants to say.

"I want to master my Quirk, too." Izuku finally says, looking up to meet Midnight in the eye. This time, he felt no fear or hesitation. Even to his own ears, his voice felt firmer than it had ever been before. "To use it to its fullest and protect those who need it. Yuuei is the best school in Japan. If there is a place that could help me reach my goals, it would be here."

He looks down at his hands, opening them, palms upwards.

"I don't want to be the Number One Hero, or the most popular one. I want to be the best hero _I_ can be."

Silence.

"That's a bold answer." Midnight says after a long stretch of silence. "Realistic. More so than I was expecting."

Izuku ducks his head slightly lower before he can stop himself, barely fighting off the urge to look away from her eyes. "I've spent a lot of time thinking about it."

"Being a hero?"

"No. Why one is a hero."

Midnight's smile returns, and Izuku knows right there and then that she was satisfied by his answer.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

They will receive their results in four to six days.

Izuku knows already the answer to it; he'd completed the track course and landed in third place. Shouto had gotten second and he'd completed it impeccable. Anyone else might feel miffed that their brother was ranked higher than them, but for Izuku it was expected.

The fact he completed the track was good enough for him.

Here's to hoping the Yuuei staff were more impressed than horrified by his Quirk. They would know how to handle it, no? Thinking back at the reaction his father's staff had when they first went to the agency, and the way they scurried around him every time he came back for training, a part of Izuku was starting to doubt. And it was a terrible feeling.

But then he remembers his interview with Midnight, and something settles in his chest. A soothing balm of cold that eases Styxfire back into slumber.

The creak of his bedroom door, ultimately forcing him to set his worries aside in favor of turning around and greet his guest. He finds his sister standing at the door frame, clutching the doorknob with one hand and the frame with another.

Eyes filled with familiar nervousness meet his. Izuku stands up from his desk. Part of him knows where this is going only ever got this anxious about one topic.

"Father wants you in his office."

Or rather, one person. Izuku swallows.

"Alright," He responds after far too much time passed, Styxfire sparking like firecrackers in his chest. It tickled the inside of his ribs and made the tight feeling in his throat all the more worse. "I'll go see him. Thank you."

Looking as resigned as Izuku felt, Fuyumi nods and scurries away. He follows after, and he watches his sister branch off towards the kitchen, likely to stay out of the way.

It doesn't take him long to reach his father's office, but it certainly feels too short of a time. Shorter than Izuku needed it to be to get his thoughts in order. Speaking with Endeavor was ever a relaxing pastime.

 _What does he want with me?_

Knocking on the office door, he waits for his father's permission. Never had he done otherwise.

"Come in."

Hand on the doorknob, he twists and walks inside.

The room is as he remembers it to be from the last time he'd been here, untouched save the documents on his father's desk. Always in a neat order, they left quite a bit of space open that his father, currently, was using to rest his crossed arms on.

"Sit down." Endeavor tells him without further pause, eyes never straying from his. Izuku holds his gaze out of habit as he walks over, carefully lowering himself into the chair, spine straight and hands on his lap like he'd been taught. "As school is about to start for you and Shoto, it has come to my attention that there is something I need to address."

Izuku digs his nails into his thighs. A loathsome feeling squirms in his guts. Still, he doesn't look away from his father's gaze.

"I'm sure you know what I am talking about."

Part of Izuku already knows what he's talking about. And there might as well be one reason why he would be taking some of his precious time to talk to Izuku instead of bringing up before or right after training. It meant that he needed Izuku for something.

"What would you like me to do, sir?"

The flames around Endeavor's head flickers more energetically. It's a tell -a confirmation.

"I want you to...bring down Shouto's inhibitions." His father continues, voice terrifyingly even and unconcerned. Like what he was saying was a done deal and Izuku would listen, because he always did. It was in his nature to and Izuku knew it. "He has to stop restraining himself. He won't go far without using his full power."

Izuku knows what he really meant.

 _My power._

Ego, he finds, is a terrible, terrible thing.

A ugly, twisted poison. Something Izuku wishes he could ignore and discard, leave behind like Endeavor made him leave almost all of his beloved belongings at his mother's house, all those years ago.

But he knows it's not possible.

If it was, he would have done it a long time ago.

If it was, maybe he and Shouto wouldn't exist at all.

"Why me?"

Endeavor's flames flare for a moment. "He listens to you." His father says in a voice that Izuku knows too well, a tone that had his heart clenching at it's calculated softness. "Out of everyone in this house, you have his ear. And you want him to succeed as much as I do, don't you?"

There's not a single lie in that statement -only that Izuku knew that his definition of success would be wildly different than his father's. Endeavor, for all of his brilliance, was blinded himself. Blinded by his own ego, yes, by his own goals and ambitions, but also by something else.

By All Might.

And the society the Number One Hero had built.

It was a truth that Izuku had come to a long, long time ago, when his feet and hands still ached from the biting cold of that lonely winter night, and it was a truth that never left him. Because it was something that was never said, a belief that never passed Izuku's lips but rang so true, more so than anything else in his life.

And with that knowledge -with the resignation that came with it, Izuku asks quietly, stomach twisting into knots inside his belly:

"...what do you want me to do, sir?"

His father's eyes narrow. The crown of flames over his head flickers. The walls of his office are painted orange and yellow; the metal frames and the smooth glass of his office furniture gleam gold with the shine of his fire.

"I need you to convince Shouto to use his fire this semester." Endeavor tells him plainly.

It's expected.

"If you succeed, I'll allow you to live with your mother."

 _...oh._

* * *

… **.told you guys that Endeavor boi was going to do something bad. I gotta find a way to put a wedge between Shouto and Izuku somehow, am I right?**

 **Hehehe don't kill me.**

 **Also I'm so proud of how I wrote Aizawa. That poor man thinking this was going to be a nice quiet year then BAM All Might, and then BAM again there's a kid that just set an entire track on fire and he gotta deal with that now.**

 **-and meanwhile, there's All Might who finally sees some of Izuku's Quirk and is because that was NOT what he was expecting when he guessed tiny bean had a fire Quirk like dear daddy-o. So if you are wondering what he was thinking when watching Izuku he wasn't -he was screaming internally.**

 **So much for the greatest hero in Japan.**

 **Also to Izuku being a nervous wreck to anyone not a Todoroki or a Midoriya, give him a bit of time. He's gonna stop crashing his gpu soon enough. Uraraka is gonna help! Shouto's gonna be a bit iffy about sharing tho.**

 **Oh, that reminds me!**

 **Next Chapter:**

 **Kacchan.**


	12. Chapter 12

**I managed to pump this out before Christmas :D Thank me writing A Mockery of Rebirth, it was the perfect channeling of angst I needed to write this piece.**

 **Helps that things are going smoothly for me irl. My parents are taking to Tokoyami pretty well. Well, as well as they can, you can understand. Apparently according to them, he has taken to guarding parts of the house and charges at your feet when you disturb his territory. Fun.**

 **His shenanigans are endless.**

 **Mom is minding her own business folding socks and he would pick up the little sock balls ⅓ his size and struggle, wiggle, flap his wings and everything as he drags it over the edge of the table to toss it off. More often than not, on the dog's snout. Poor doggy.**

 **He also dunks his head in my coffee and I had to wash him off. Multiple times. Don't get my poor mother started on the time she left a pan full of oily water in the sink to clean and the dumbass tried to take a bath in it. He was very pissed that he was shooed off his new bathing pot.**

 **The other day the neighbor had their dog come over and we put Tokoyami in his cage, and since the other dog was like a terrier mix he wanted to get a bite on Tokoyami (even tho he was safe in his gigantic cage and biting at the dog from between the bars) and my parent's dog just put herself in between -she big- and physically blocked the other dog from reaching the cage.**

 **Like, full on growling and yipping to get him to fuck off. Which he did, since he's barely heavier than one of her legs and she never was agro towards him before. We're talking about the same gigantic dog that trails after Tokoyami like a lost puppy.**

… **.my family is weird.**

* * *

" _If you succeed, I'll allow you to live with your mother."_

Izuku sits on it for the better part of three days.

He feels guilty to even _contemplate_ it. Just having that proposition bouncing around his head like a caged bird longing to fly, restless. An uncomfortable weight that Styxfire for once could not gnaw away and that only grew when he was around Shouto.

Shouto, who he had breakfast with, trained with, studied with; Shouto who trusted him and was _blind_ to the tantalizing piece of meat their father was dangling in front of Izuku.

It ate at him.

With every passing hour, the wound festered. How _dare_ Izuku even think about going through with it, after everything he'd done with his brother? After all those years spent building trust and affirming their bond, how could he even think of betraying him in such a way?

But it was tempting.

Too tempting.

Endeavor made it clear that if he did it, if he got Shouto to accept using his flames, use Hellfire, then Izuku would have unrestricted access to his mother. He could go to her house any time he wanted. He could stay there as long as he wanted.

Maybe he could even bring Shouto too.

Izuku hadn't pushed for that, but he wondered if his father would allow him.

(Shouto always said that Endeavor _listened_ to him, more than anyone else in this house.)

Longing tears through his system, a jolt of bitter energy that has the obsidian flames on his body flickering angrily. He misses his mother. Their visits were only once a week, or every two weeks, and always supervised, always somewhere other than her house -somewhere Endeavor could keep an eye on things.

For his own safety, his father had said.

Izuku had to wonder if it was really that. Maybe part of it, given the tendency of villains targeting the families of Pro-Heroes -but he thinks there's something else about it. He knows there is more truth to is. Despite all of Endeavor's desire of making them powerful heroes, he was possessive. Controlling.

They were his children and they were his to mold, after all. Izuku had never really had wool over his eyes regarding that.

If he had, Touya ripped the rest of it off.

So, maybe he wanted to be a little bit selfish.

Maybe he wanted to experience more than the four stone walls circling the property, or the gaudy gallas, Maybe he wanted less of his father's training and more tea at night while watching television. It felt shameful to think about it, but it had been so long, he can barely remember what he used to do with his mom.

But this shouldn't be about him!

He should take the offer. Maybe not for himself _-you're not being selfish, you're not, you are not Tou-_ but for his brother!

He'd always hated the way Shouto limited himself, hated the way he cut off his Quirk, atrophied it out of a sheer stubborn desire to deny their father. Shouto never seemed to realize how bad it was -how he was hurting himself more than he was hurting Endeavor.

For Izuku, whose body had nearly collapsed into itself multiple times, it was mind boggling that Shouto was lucky enough to have such a Quirk, and he _mutilated_ it.

 _Someday it might come back to bite him,_ he thinks wistfully as he lays in his fire pit, the last of the special coal being eaten away by Styxfire. His Quirk was happily gnawing at it, eager to fill up to its fullest before his first semester started.

The letters should start coming in tomorrow.

Miffed, Izuku rolls over on the ash and stares down at the stone circling around the pit, separating it from the smooth dark wood flooring of the room. The floor was covered in soot marks.

Izuku reaches out and traces the stains idly with a single finger, sucking up the remaining warmth from the ashes.

 _I don't know what to do anymore._

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Two days after they get their confirmation letters, their father sends them with Fuyumi to make their train pass.

It's a quick affair. They go in with the required documents and the money, get their pictures done, and get the cards printed. Shouto's kind of glaring in his photo and Izuku think his own looks a bit too wide eyed, but he doesn't speak up about it. There's nothing to complain anyways.

Some of the workers do a double take upon seeing their names, but Fuyumi preemptively cuts off any thought of theirs to talk about it with her stony silence. She's less timid in public, Izuku discovers with surprise. Less hunched into herself, more proactive.

The same hesitation is there, the same worry that he'd always seen in her eyes, but it's muted now that she's out of the house.

And as he stares down at the seemingly innocent little card trapped between his hands, Izuku feels a mixture of apprehension and longing.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Ultimately, the one thing Izuku had been trying not to think about rears its head.

Kacchan.

Izuku knew he had applied for Yuuei. Inko had told him, Mitsuki had raved about it in her own letter -having, two years ago, graduated to her own after rendering Inko's letter twice it's length on weekly basis- telling him how her brat had gotten himself registered to the public Entrance Exam and was training even harder to get in.

Reading her tales of the other boy left Izuku wondering. Wondering what Kacchan was thinking, what he was like now, what he was doing. What he thought of Izuku now.

 _I don't remember his voice._

"Izuku."

Green eyes slid over towards the one calling his name. Shouto was sitting by his fire pit, stretching quietly.

He'd never really feared Izuku's flames. His brother was just, like that. Fearless of the fire. Not even after that night when Izuku hungered, yearning for something he could not quite define until that moment.

(Maybe he never realized how close he came to losing his life to them.)

"If you keep worrying, you'll start mumbling again."

Izuku frowns. "I hope not."

Mumbling was the one habit Endeavor had quickly taken away from Izuku. As was his nervous hand wriggling. His stuttering had gotten better over the years, but it occasionally pierced it's way through.

Outsides, bird chirped in the garden. Izuku tried to focus on their calls, on the faintest traces of heat he felt from the trees outside, distinct from the way the sun warmed the ancient bark. His thermal sense had grown a few feet since he'd first discovered it.

His eyes slide shut. Maybe he could rest a bit more-

"What are you thinking about?"

Izuku hesitates, opening his eyes. Seems like Shouto wasn't going to let it go.

...though to be honest? He wanted to talk too.

"Do you...do you remember that boy? From the letters?"

His brother hums, a gentle sound that encourages Izuku. Shouto had always been the easiest to talk to. His one constant in life -his confident. Shouto was someone he could trust to listen. Even know, with guilt clawing at his throat, it was easily to divulge his fears to his older brother.

Even after what happened the night of the exam.

"Katsuki, right?" Shouto's quiet voice reached over the soft crackling of Styxfire. "...you told me he wanted to be a Pro-Hero." His older brother continues, his nose twitching in the tiniest of wrinkles that Izuku knows is from displeasure.

Not because of Kacchan himself -but for what he wanted to be.

Pro-Heroes always incited the same reaction from Shouto. That never changed. Not quite disgust, but a certain urge to steer away that Izuku could at the same time understand and not. Because Pro-Heroes were heroes and Izuku dreamed of them since the very first time he grasped the concept.

 _...and yet Shouto's going to be one. With me. Using his ice._

(Not fire.)

"He's going to Yuuei." Izuku informs him, not that Shouto did not know that -he'd heard of the blond boy enough from Izuku. "He...h-he might be in our class."

Shouto pauses his exercises and gives him a look.

The kind of look he gives when he understands what Izuku's tumbling, stressed mind could not quite form with his lips, vocal cords and tongue.

"You're scared to meet him again." Shouto guesses, rightly so. The nod that Izuku makes is jerky. "Maybe he misses you too."

"I don't know." He finds himself denying, part of him bitter at the mere idea that Kacchan ever missed his presence. They hadn't been really friends, at the end.

Izuku tried to keep that away from Shouto, but his brother was smart and ultimately figured out enough.

"It's been a long time."

 _Maybe he doesn't remember me anymore._

Maybe like Izuku remembered him, Kacchan only had a vague recollection of him. They had bene young after all. Five, six years old. There's not much he would remember, in all likelihood. Izuku can't even remember his voice anymore. He remembers his pale, blond hair and bright red eyes. The faintest memory of his furrowed brows occasionally graced Izuku's mind, but it was a weak, feeble thing.

Things changed.

The Kacchan of before will not be the one he might, in all likelihood, meet again at Yuuei.

A stranger.

(How that _hurt_.)

"Izuku?"

Shouto's voice snaps him out of his thoughts, making him jerk his head up -when did he lower it? "...yeah?"

"I might be wrong," Shouto starts slowly, his mismatched eyes gaining a familiar, intense gleam. The kind of stare he used when he was examining something very carefully -and in this case, the thing he was looking was _Izuku_. Not good.

"-but is there anything you need to tell me?"

Izuku feels his heart stop.

His hands feel clammy. Styxfire sputters around him. It's a tell. Something Shouto was familiar with.

And that knowledge terrified him.

"I'm nervous about school." Izuku swallows, the lie tasting of bile on his tongue, painful like shards of glass draggin against his skin. Quite suddenly, he finds that his mouth feels oh so very dry. His mind scrambles for a response -for an answer that wasn't what part of him yearned to say. "It's the first time I'll go since ...since I was with my mom."

The words came out after a far longer stretch of silence that Izuku was comfortable with.

Shouto regards him for a very long moment. Too long. Izuku feels jittery and off guard. Part of him wants to scream. Another wants to curl up in a ball and disappear. His brother probably wasn't realizing what effect he was causing, or that he was so nervous that cold and heat rushed and down his veins like his Quirk so easily did.

Or maybe he did.

Maybe he knew.

Maybe he knew and was waiting for Izuku's reaction.

Maybe he was waiting for him to respond with the truth.

Maybe he knew what kind of lying little monster he was-

"I see. I feel the same." Shouto finally murmurs, and part of Izuku that was coiled up so tight around his throat that he could not breathe slowly unwinds. "It...it will be my first time. That I go to school."

His brother pauses, looking away. By doing so, he misses the way Izuku digs his teeth into his lower lip.

"I'm nervous."

Izuku swallows. "That makes the two of us."

Shouto nods slowly. And without another word, he goes back to his exercises. Rolling shoulders, stretching, warming up for their sparring session with Endeavor that was due in an hour.

The silence that falls over them is not the same as before. It's stunted. More awkward.

For Izuku, suffocating.

He turns his head away from his brother, not wanting the older boy to see the guilt written on his face like a searing brand. He tries to focus on his flames, on doing small shaping exercise with the black fire but it crackles in his palms and bites at his clothes, as restless as it's owner.

Soon enough, Izuku gives up and flopped back on the ashes, letting the flames wrap around his body; a black curtain that hides him from his brother's sight.

It does nothing to alleviate his shame.

Shame was a horrible, terrible, familiar thing to drown in.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Maybe he should leave it alone.

Box up that promise, shove the chest into the darkest corners of his mind alongside everything else that already sat there, festering. Take the lock and throw it away.

Forget about it.

Forget about the deal.

Forget about his dreams of a small bedroom splashed with blues and yellows and the smell of herbal tea.

Do the right thing.

Do what Shouto would want.

Let him smother Hellflame until nothing remained but a tiny, atrophied flame. Until that little lick of fire turned into ashes and Shouto won and tore off that excess limb.

His brother already had one Quirk. His ice was unrivalled. His control over his power was better than Izuku's ever was.

Shouto knew what he was doing.

He preferred his ice over his flames -and frankly?

Maybe it was good for him. Maybe Hellflame wasn't needed.

After all, Izuku knew better than anyone what fire did.

 _Izuku, you took his arms._

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

If he could, he'll take a knife and carve it out, too.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

A few days later, a little letter show up at the doorstep. It has the Yuuei seal on the front.

Endeavor is quick to snatch it up and call for Izuku and Shouto to meet him at the dinner table. They know better than to make him wait, so within three minutes they're out of their room and taking a seat at each other sides.

Their father doesn't join them.

Instead, he skulks around the room, eyeing the letter laying on the table through narrowed eyes. Izuku barely keeps himself from doing the same. His throat feels very dry. A letter wasn't an accurate description. It's a big, orange envelope. Izuku spies something flat and circular at the bottom.

He wants to ask, but he knows his place.

"Open it."

They do just that. Shouto grabs it, snapping the top off and letting the contents slide out onto the table.

There's two white letters inside, but Izuku's attention is stolen by the loud _clink!_ that echoes through the quiet room as the circular thing finally comes to view. It's a disk -flat and metallic, with a circular platform on top.

Maybe a bit too curious, Izuku picks it up and twists it in his hands, examining the strange little item. A machine, no doubt -and he could spy the faintest amount of heat coming from the device.

What was it?"

"It's a projector." Endeavor's voice cuts through the silence, startling Izuku so had he nearly drops said projector. From the look on his father's face, he doesn't seem amused by that at all.

Then again, he's never amused.

Especially after the news came out two days ago that All Might was going to teach at Yuuei. Izuku had his own freakout about it. He's still not quite over it either.

"Izuku." Right. His father was still here. "The panel on top -press and twist on it to active the projection."

Carefully, Izuku sets the little machine down and does just so. Holds it with one hand, presses down delicately with his left fingers and then twist.

The projector chirps. Loudly.

Izuku can't stop the squawk of surprise from leaving him at the sound; he flinches back, pushing the machine away as a beam of light comes from the panel, which was now flipping itself up like a little cap, spilling light on the wall and part of the living room. It looks like something, but Izuku's not sure what. Most of it is lost in the living room.

Endeavor walks over and snags the machine, adjusting it on the table so the light hits the wall fully. It clear things up quickly.

It's a projection.

A reel.

" _ **Hello there!"**_

Of All Might.

Izuku's too mortified to make a sound.

 _Oh no._

 _This wasn't part of the plan._

His father keeps to himself but the flaring of his flames and the way his clenches his fists is more than enough for Izuku to press against his brother's side for comfort. Shouto doesn't outwardly react, but Izuku's thermal vision picks up a rise of temperature within the left side of his body.

Warmth always comforted Izuku, so he allows himself to relax, Styxfire leeching gently on that excess warmth. It settles him long enough to focus back on the projection in front of them.

All Might was standing in front of a window that seemed to be overlooking the campus, his smile was just as infectious as it was in person. A person with lesser control and without the Number Two Hero practically breathing down their neck -Endeavor was standing right behind him, from the thermal sight his arms were crossed and his flames were flaring like mad- would have smiled along. Not Izuku.

Not right now.

" _ **Hello Todorokis! I hope you're there too, Enji!"**_

A low, hissed grunt of irritation reached Izuku's ears. Clearly his father was not amused.

" _ **Right, let us begin!"**_ All Might exclaims, hands on his hips. He was wearing an oddly bright yellow business suit with stripes. .Oddly, it suited him. " _ **It was decided that we should make one projector for you two -and truly it's a marvelous idea! Todoroki Shouto-"**_

 _ **At his side, Shouto sits up even straighter. Izuku's own heart lurches. It was now or never.**_

" _ **-your score speaks for itself! You came second place in your physical examination with a 19.4 second total! Combined with your written test result of 97%, that places you third in place for the Recommendation Exam at 81 points!"**_

Shouto got in.

 _Shouto got in._

Izuku felt a lurch of joy within his chest. Combined with All Might's laugh he wants to smile, but his brother's lack of outward physical response at the announcement that he was accepted into one of the highest rated Pro-Hero schools in the country-

Wait.

All Might said third. And as Izuku thinks that, he feels the heat coming from his father rise. It's a small, tiny change that only someone with a thermal sense would pick up. Given how careful Endeavor was about using Hellflame within the confines of his very flammable home, it said something.

This wasn't good.

" _ **Young Izuku! I must say the start of your physical exam had me worried-"**_

Izuku can physically _feel_ his father's stare at the back of his head but he holds still and silent. Not good.

" _ **-but you managed to surprise even me! From the last of the pack, with 12.5 seconds you had the shortest completion time amongst all the candidates!"**_

Oh. That was surprising.

He knew that for his group but he hadn't seen the rest of the candidates compete -did he really have the shortest time? He came _third_ in the group!

" _ **Needless to say, you have done very well my boy! Your score of 98.7% in the written portion also helped! Truly impressive! That secures you second place in the Recommendation Exam with a total of 83 points!"**_

Izuku feels himself deflate. Second spot? How did he manage that?! He was fast with Styxfire but did he really clear it that quickly?

Wait. If he got that score, he came in second place, that meant one thing -he passed.

He got in.

 _He's going to Yuuei._

Izuku knew it was more than a possibility -he'd trained since his Quirk first appeared, it was expected of him to pass -but the overwhelming tidal wave of emotions that hit him right there and then was unexpected. A shuddering breath leaves him and he slumps the tiniest bit in his seat, his grip on Shouto's hand almost iron tight. Not that his brother seemed to mind it.

In fact, he was squeezing back.

" _ **The rest of the information is included in the package -alongside your school badges! Please take care to read over everything carefully and don't forget your badge at home, otherwise the gate won't let you in! With all of that said-"**_

All Might grins, the kind of smile that Izuku recognizes immediately. It's his hero smile. The smile he'd seen as a little boy on television -the same smile he gave him when he was a little child and strayed from his father's side.

A true hero's smile.

" _ **Congratulations! This is your Hero Academia!"**_

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

His father storms off not too long after.

Neither of them blame or try to stop him. They know better -and frankly, they are relieved when he stomps off, likely to work his rage off in the training rooms or bury himself under paperwork.

When they're certain he's gone, Izuku takes his letter and his badge and so does his brother -but in a moment of yearning, he snags the projector too.

Shouto says nothing.

They part when they reach the sleeping quarters. Shouto seemed to need his own space and Izuku was relieved by that fact.

He wanted to be alone right now too.

The letter and school badge are left on his study desk; Izuku heads for his mattress, not even bothering to turn the light on in the darkened room. His familiarity with the space and his Quirk guided him. The projector was still in his hand when he finally sat down on his bed, tucked tight against his chest by an innate, stubborn force.

It's still warm.

A warmth that Styxfire is quick to leech away.

Izuku sighs. It's late. His bedtime is approaching. He should be under the covers and getting ready to drift off. Doing otherwise was unproductive to his tight schedule.

And yet, he can't find it in himself to set it down.

He curls up under the thick covers, the little metal disk still in hand. In the dark, he traces the edges of the device. Izuku doesn't dare try to figure out how to activate it again. Maybe it was a one time use. He doesn't know. And he can't find it in himself the will to try and check if there was any truth in the matter.

….but still, his hand remained wrapped tight around the metal disk.

And he can't close his eyes.

 _I'll be a Pro-Hero._

The thought bounces around his head, a echoe that refuses to go quiet.

 _I'm going to save people._

Styxfire rumbles within his chest, sated and fed.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

(That night, his dreams are filled with snow.)

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Nevermind if Izuku wanted it or not, the day arrived.

Part of Izuku wants to dig his heels in. Maybe scream, too. Maybe curl up in a ball within hardened Styxfire and just sit there till the end of time. He'd absorbed enough energy to at least do it for a few weeks.

But while he was thinking about the logistics of becoming a hermit within his own home, Shouto was already dragging him through the front gates and towards the train station, just a short ten minute walk away from the house.

Barely any words are exchanged between the two of them. Shouto is stone. Maybe he's as nervous as Izuku felt.

He might be.

Izuku will never know. For as good as he'd become at masking his own facial expression, Shouto was _twice_ the master.

He had to learn how to do it from someone.

They're at the station not before long; one moment he's outside the building, the next Izuku finds himself amidst a veritable _sea_ of individuals.

Despite the fact he'd gone to do his train card with Fuyumi, this was the first time he experienced public service.

Izuku's instantly terrified.

It's even worse when they get on the train. There's a lot of people in the cabin. A _**lot**_. They push and pull at each other and they are so _close_ it's terrifying, their heat signatures almost overwhelming in their numbers. Izuku's not sure he's been around so many people before.

And they were all civilians, likely.

Without training.

Helpless.

And he's sitting there, a bomb waiting to go off.

The anxiety that came with that realization gnawed at him. He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't be in public. There's so many people and he knew intimately how his Quirk reacted with so many possible sources around. This was the last place he wanted to be.

 _I trained,_ a small, miserable part of him whispers as he holds Shouto's hand tighter, trying to keep his breathing calm and even. His expression is blank, a carefully crafted mask only his brother could rival, but his stomach kept doing flips and if it could just _stop-_

 _I did everything I could. I spent years on my Quirk. I'm good._

The person at his right coughed. His back collided against Izuku's shoulder and he barely fights back the wince.

 _I'm not going to lose control._

He knew this. He believed it. He's spent so long working on making sure he could never hurt someone again. He'd molded his entire self around that iron tight control over his Quirk, an ability grown out of years of training, of his father's teaching and the memories of what could happen if he slackened the leash even the slightest _bit-_

….and yet there was a part of him that wanted to leave.

 _Now_.

Frustrated, angry, Izuku gnaws on the inside of his left cheek. Why was this all coming back _now?!_

Part of Izuku knew the answer. He just didn't want to admit it.

Not even to himself.

 _(I don't feel ready at all.)_

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Izuku's a bit of a nervous wreck about not missing their train stop.

Which of course, meant that _Shouto_ was the one who noticed they were reaching their stop because he got lost in his own head and it was again, Shouto, who valiantly pushed his way through the horde of people and gets out on time before the door closed.

Leaving the train and the train station behind in exchange for wider, open streets was an instant relief for Izuku. He tries not to push people out of the way on his way out, but he can't fully fight off the urge to dive out into the open.

Out of the station, out of that stupid dreaded cabin, he can breathe again.

Izuku ends up leaning against a lamp post outside the station, mind terrifyingly blank and Styxfire feeling like a lead anchor in his chest. Shouto's presence is a familiar comfort at his side but not today, unfortunately. He stares down at the dirty pavement with wide eyes.

Then he notices it.

Were his knees shaking that badly?

"Izuku."

"I'm-" He stops himself before he can let out that one phrase his brother hated the most. He can feel Shouto's hand on his back, right next to his backpack. "...just give me a moment." Izuku ends up breathing out.

Shouto's silent for a moment. "Too much?"

Trust his brother to know right away.

"Y-yeah." Izuku wheezes as he straightens his back, brushing out any speck of dirt that might be on his uniform. "I wasn't expecting...that many people. Too much heat."

"...me neither."

Izuku blinks at the quiet admission. He closes his eyes. Breathes out. Tries as hard as he can to box it all up and shove it away.

Standing straighter, he turns to his brother. Shouto's expression was calm and guarded, but there's a worried softness in his mismatched eyes that Izuku liked to think only he could spot. Shouto's hand hasn't left his side yet.

"I'm good now. We can go." He finally murmurs, just loud enough for the taller boy to pick up.

Shouto slowly nods.

And off they went.

Through the familiar streets, past that one bakery -they eye it for a moment before they both silently agree that their stomachs are not up for the challenge- up the hillside and towards the shining gates of Yuuei. It looked a lot bigger than before.

….and it was also swarmed with people.

People with cameras.

 _Oh no._

Izuku wants to plant his feet and stop. Shouto has other ideas -he can feel it in the way his brother _speeds up._

 _I'm not trained for this._

"W-wait!"

 _Nope,_ Shouto was likely thinking. The bastard. Because his brother grabs onto his backpack tight, pulls him against his side, and barrels right through the mess, determined to get them to their class on time despite the fact they were early. And Izuku, not graced with their father's height as Shouto is and weighing about 45 kilos soaking wet, can only duck his head alongside him and try not to die.

It's chaos.

People are shouting over their heads and their bodies are so close Izuku feels like he's going to combust. And the rapid fire of their question wasn't helping -a female voice shouts right into his left ear, making him flinch into Shouto's side:

"Hey, hey you there! You have the school uniform on, are you a first ye _-wait!"_

 _No,_ Izuku thinks a bit hysterically, feeling like his heart was about to burst out of his chest. _I'm sorry I know that you're just doing your job but no no no-_

They're through. Izuku blinks up in time to see the arching gates of Yuuei looming over their heads before Shouto gets them on the other side. Not...not the start he would have wanted, or anything akin to what he was expecting, but glancing back in time to see the hoard of journalists standing at the gates like a wall of warm bodies, Izuku takes what he has.

It could be much worse.

Shouto relinquishes his grip on him and steps away, giving him room. They both silently brush their uniforms off of any debris they might have gained during the scuffle. Izuku doesn't even try to admonish his sibling for shoving him into that pit of death. As much as he wanted to think he would have found a better, more dignified way to get through, Izuku knew what he would have actually done.

Stand there like an idiot for the hour or so that it would take for the mob to disperse.

They make their way into the main building, following the instructions on small layout plans of the campus that sparsely decorated the hallways. There's a big Welcome! sign at the main entrance inside, a banner that sprawled over the entirety of the massive room like a cloud.

Given how early they were, only a scant few dozens of teenagers were ambling about, their peach and green colored uniforms marking them as students of Yuuei. Most of them looked a lot older than Izuku and Shouto.

 _Are they second and third years?_ Izuku thinks as he observes a trio of teenagers loudly talk to one another.

One was an absolute monolith, his short golden hair gleaming under the lights as he talks to a girl with flowing light purple hair while shielding a shorter, darker haired boy from her exclamatory remarks. She was excitedly chattering in return, flailing her arms around-

-and then her eyes shift quicker than lasers to land on Izuku. She makes a loud _oooooh, tiny ickle first years!_ and waves so hard part of him was expecting her arm to fall off.

Surprised, Izuku squawks. Shouto tugged him towards the stairs leading to the second floor and he all but flails to go after his sibling.

They reach their assigned classroom in no time. From the number on their school badge they are in Class 1-A, and the large, bright red mark on the ridiculously tall door was quick to mark it as such. Izuku inspects it as they get closer and closer to the door, torn between confusion at its size and wonder.

How tall were some of the students to require such a big door?!

He wants to stop before they go in, but Shouto's grip keeps him from stopping. And so far too quickly for Izuku's comfort, they're inside the classroom., amongst their fellow students -tneh very same people Izuku will be around for the next three years.

They're one of the firsts, from the looks of things.

A boy with multiple arms was quietly talking to what looked like a boy with a ...crow's head? The glossy black feathers gleamed under the lights and his beak was a soft yellow. Not quite a crow then. But close. And there was another boy sitting next to the six armed boy -this one had a tail! And the other one next to him had purple eyes and one of the silkiest looking blond hair Izuku had ever seen.

At the far end of the classroom near the teacher's desk there was a floating ...uniform? Oh. _Oh_.

She's _invisible_!

Izuku turns his gaze on the rest of the class, quickly scanning through the rows. There were so many -twenty seats in total not all filled yet but still. It was a lot to take in-

"Bonjour!" Izuku nearly jumped at the sudden voice. It's the blond boy with purple eyes. He's eyeing them up and down. His gaze connects with Izuku and holds as the boy winks. "Here early too, are you?"

He was expecting him to talk. Izuku smiled as much as he could.

"H-hi."

The blond sighs. It's almost drama -wait, it is _dramatic_. "My name is Aoyama Yuga. What's yours, _petit_?"

Izuku blinks. "I'm Todoroki Izuku-"

"Hello there!"

Izuku's snap from Aoyama to the newcomer -oh he was _tall_.

He had dark blue hair and dark grey, bluish eyes. The short crop of his hair, the cut and the way the lower half of his pants was adapted to let what looked like engine tubes peak through made Izuku realize quickly enough that this was an Iida.

Izuku quickly racks his brain for the name. His teachers had taught him about the current ranked heroes and the old Pro-Hero families so he should be-

Wait. His eyes nearly widen in surprise.

 _Oh._

It's the tall boy from that night when he last saw All Might in person -Tenya Iida, the youngest member of the Pro-Hero family!

...the one he couldn't even muster a word out when Iida tried to initiate a conversation. After staring at his brother. Without even trying to hide it.

Iida didn't seem to remember that encounter. He looks between Izuku and Shouto and grins politely.

"My name's Iida Tenya! I'm from Soumei High School!" The way he waves his arms had to hurt ...right? Izuku's completely hypnotized, following the moving hands with his eyes. It was even worse than that night at the galla. "It's good to meet you-"

"Todoroki." Shouto interrupts, his bland tone cutting right through Iida's speech. Izuku sees it coming but he still winces on the inside. "Todoroki Shouto. And this is my brother, Todoroki Izuku."

Iida pauses, nodding. "Oh, I understand-"

Aoyama makes a soft noise from his seat, interested. "Ooh, you're Endeavor's kids! You must be the riske child, right?" The boy interjects, smiling at Izuku who doesn't really need to understand what he was saying to understand the tone of it.

There's good reason to believe Aoyama doesn't really mean anything about it, but Shouto sees it otherwise with the way he drags Izuku away without even an excuse me. Izuku tries to apologize, but he's too red in the face by his brother's rude actions to make anything other that a warbled goodbye!

Aoyama shrugs and looks away, quickly losing interest.

The students that were already there stared a bit as Izuku found his assigned seat right in front of Shouto. It's kind of embarrassing how they don't seem to try to hide it. The only one who does is Iida, and he's practically prowling up and down the front of the class like he's waiting for another unsuspecting student.

 _Is this how schools worked?_

Izuku's on the fence if he likes it so far.

He sets his backpack by his desk and sits down. There's a girl not too far from him sitting at her own desk, purple hair bouncing with each small tilt of her head as she listens along to music from her headphone-

Wait.

Izuku tries not to squint, but he just noticed that the flesh-colored cable connected to her phone wasn't connected to her headphones at all -because there wasn't any. It was connected with the lower half of her ears. Far from the strangest Quirk he'd seen, but it was...unique.

 _Wonder how she uses it in combat…._

Stomp. Izuku's head snaps towards the wall separating the room from the hallway. Footsteps? There's a thermal signature on the other side of the wall. Human shaped.

And _loud_.

The footsteps are stomping but the shadow coming in through the fogged window wasn't that tall. Certainly not to be an adult and it wasn't very heavy looking either-

 _Slam!_

The door is practically thrown open with enough force to make it rattle on its hinges.

For Izuku, the world goes from too fast to standing still.

It's been years. Years. And yet the moment he spots that shock of blond hair, the name rises up from the depths of his mind like a tidal wave, sweeping every other thought away but one word.

 _Kacchan._

The young teenager standing at the doorway was a far cry from the small boy Izuku remembered, but he was unmistakable. He's tall, a bit broad shouldered, the Yuuei form hanging baggy on his body like it's one size bigger than it should be. There was no tie in sight and a dark blue bag was hanging off his shoulder.

Kacchan's narrowed eyes swept across the room, disgruntled and sullen like he's not happy to be here -and then they land on Izuku and he goes very, very still as well.

Izuku barely dares to breathe. Kacchan seemed just as surprised to see him here -his brows are narrowed in a way that suggested displeasure, but his eyelids had flown wide open and he was frozen in place at the door. Just like Izuku could barely budge from his seat, so were his feet rooted in place.

Were his eyes always that red? Izuku can't find it in himself to do anything but stare. He might have done it for the following hour, scanning everything he could see about his childhood friend and cataloguing it for future comparison to what scraps he could remember of

...but then a tiny, confused female voice echoes out behind Kacchan, hesitating:

"...are you going to move…?"

Kacchan jolts like a startled snake. It makes Izuku jump back in his seat. The blond looks back, face twisting into a snarl as he barks. "Shut up! I'll go in when I want to!"

Izuku startles. Kacchan's voice was low, rough like gravel with a bite to it that he wasn't expecting but didn't feel out of place. Kacchan had never been soft spoken when they were children, that Izuku remembered vividly. So why would he now?

The girl at the door -short, brown hair and a rounded face- makes a frown at his explosive reaction. "Hey! Mind your manners!" She complains. "It's only the first day!"

To make things worse, at the sight of them Iida charges up to greet them. Izuku can already see where things were going to go before the tall boy opened his mouth.

"Hel-"

"Stuff it." The sound that left Kacchan's lips was something an angry cat would be proud of. "You're fucking loud."

"How rude!"

"-and a prude." The blond replies without missing a beat. "Fuck off, cookie-cutter."

Iida splutters. Kacchan just walks past him.

Izuku tenses up as the blond walks closer and closer to him -Kacchan was _tall_ , nowhere near Shouto's height but he was much bigger than what he remembered. Then again, it's been nearly seven years since they last saw each other so the memory of a short, fluffy haired, wide eyed boy grinning like the world owed him as he commanded his own little troop of friends was a far cry from the person standing before him now.

Things were different.

The Kacchan he remembered was not the Bakugo Katsuki he saw now.

He might as well be a stranger.

..and that tiny, lonely little thought _hurt._

It's only made worse when Kacchan tosses a single glance his way, practically turning up his nose at him before he flops down in his seat and slouches back, kicking his feet up on the desk in a way that had Iida letting out a sound that wouldn't be out of place from a cat that had its tail stepped on.

It's very obvious that Kacchan wanted to ignore their very existence.

Especially Izuku's.

He tries to hide the way his shoulders drop at that knowledge. He knew Kacchan must have had conflicted thoughts about seeing him but…

...he kind...expected something. And a big part of him wanted to say something, but in front of everyone?

It was like a noose was wrapped around his neck, cutting off any sounds.

He can't talk even if he wanted to.

Izuku forces his gaze away from the blond, masking his nervousness behind a calm, blank mask. Just like he learned from his brother. He could put this aside. Kacchan didn't look happy right now. He didn't seem like he wanted to be anywhere near him and while it hurt, Izuku had to accept it.

Maybe he could talk to him. After class. Or right after school. Father came home late so a few extra minutes wouldn't go unnoticed.

Maybe.

Noise coming from the front drags his attention away from those lonesome thoughts.

It's the brown-haired girl Kacchan had blocked from coming in. She seemed to have completely disregarded Kacchan now that he was farther away; she was now talking amicably with two new students by the door -one with the brightest shock of red hair Izuku had ever seen and a girl with bright pink hair and skin. Her sceleras were black and her irises a sharp yellow, almost golden.

He forces himself to focus looking at his new classmates. The shock of seeing Kacchan was still there, a sharp burst of cold that dug its claws into his psyche and refused to let go. The apprehension of being around so many new people that he would have to be around constantly for three years-

Izuku blinks.

 _What is that._

A blob of warm was creeping up slowly behind the excitable grown haired girl. Izuku tracks it through the wall, partially fascinated by its slow progression and worried that none of the students chattering at the door noticed it yet.

What _was_ that?

Movement comes behind him, a familiar heat and cold combination that was unmistakable after so many years. Shouto spotted his reaction pretty quickly -he'd learned early enough what faces Izuku made when he notices something was off. His brother keeps quiet, but directs his attention towards where he is looking.

Izuku follows the blob, watching it make its way through the hallway with slow yet determined wiggles. None of the students at the door seemed to be any wiser to it. The brown-haired girl was chattering away and the two others were listening avidly, talking so fast and so comfortably with each other even if they seemed to have just met.

And then the blob stops.

Wiggles a bit more.

Then;

"If you came here to chatter, you can just leave."

The brown haired girl goes stiller than a statue. Both the pink girl and the boy with the fiery red hair do the same. They look like Kacchan. Well, the fish. Their eyes are wide and their mouths are gaping.

The pink girl screeches.

"What the f-"

"Keep it down."

Her mouth snaps shut so hard that Izuku hears a clack. He can't see her face, but he doesn't miss the way heat rushes up to her face. Izuku knows enough to imagine she must be blushing like mad.

The stranger wiggles up with unexpected grace, revealing himself to be almost twice the girl's height. The sound of a zipper being used reaches Izuku's ears and moments later, the strange mysterious yellow carapace falls off -it's a sleeping bag, Izuku realizes suddenly.

Revealed, the man slouches at the doorstep in all of his glory.

...he doesn't look very impressive.

Tired, worn out. Dark hair. Red Eyes. One piece suit and what looked like a grey scarf around his neck. It was too long though. Far too long. Too much to be just an accessory. And the way the light bounced off it didn't make it look like it was wool or something natural -no, it had to be a synthetic fiber. Actually, it had very little sheen to it. Like glossy metal.

Wait.

Was that some form of equipment-

Then it clicks inside Izuku's brain.

Eraserhead.

Their teacher was _Eraserhead_.

Warmth flooded through his body at the realization. If there was someone who could teach him -more than his father, more than All Might -it was the man who was able to make render him Quirkless with just a gaze.

For the first time in a long time, Izuku feels an overwhelming sense of relief.

 _Maybe this won't be that bad after all._

* * *

 **Congrats Endeavor. You gave your kid even more anxiety. 10/10 Touya would be proud of the emotional abuse.**

 **So, Kacchan. Bakugo was actually pretty difficult to set up this chapter. I didn't want to show him too much -the main point of this chapter is Izuku's MASSIVE FUCKING GUILT COMPLEX. Did I say that loud enough? Yes I did. I hope. MASSIVE goddamn guilt complex that Endeavor just made worse by asking ONE thing. Thanks, dad.**

 **Kacchan's going to be the main focus of next chapter. That's a given.**

 **I'll leave it up to you to theorize if he'll even let Izuku talk to him.**

 **Next Chapter:**

 **Eraserhead decides to throw his students headfirst into a test. Property damage inbound.**


	13. Chapter 13

A physical assessment test.

The words rattle around Izuku's head as he follows his new classmates into a changing room.

Eraserhead -Shota Aizawa, or Aizawa as he commanded they address him as- wanted to test their Quirks. See for himself what they could do, firsthand, in a controlled environment. Bring them to their limits.

It set his nerves on edge.

Izuku had tiptoed around that line before, had pushed Styxfire to the limit of what his power could handle before it turned on its owner and tried to devour his body like a slobbering, starved beast. That limit was a faint, foggy line, one clouded with pain and empty hunger-pit that sent shivers down his spine just thinking about.

 _What am I going to do?_

There's only one clear route going forward.

He'll have to work with that he had.

It was day one -surely Aizawa wouldn't put them through the wringer? Most of the students weren't scouted; their only experience with hero work was basic physical training and some Quirk manipulation in private property. Likely none of them had personal trainers or had real combat training. They're all on a similar level, with only a few deviants there and there.

It can't be that hard.

It can't be anything worse than father threw at him and Shouto.

Around him, his new classmates buzzed around as they got dressed, unable to keep their excitement and anticipation restrained. Shouto and Izuku are one of the few who were quiet. Kacchan, the crow teenager and the six-armed boy were part of that group. The rest were chattering away. Loudly.

"-so I came here from Mustafa-"

"-did you see that dark haired girl?! She's hot!"

"I can't believe I'm here!"

"Dude what's with that black thing in your hair!"

"What, this? It's my natural style!"

"You serious? That looks like hair dye!"

"Nah, man. It's all natural! Runs on my mom's side." The yellow haired boy exclaims -Kaminari, as he had introduced himself somewhere in his conversation with the redhead that Izuku was not eavesdropping. He was just within hearing range! "And who are you to talk about weird hair color? You look like you've been dipped in cherry sauce!"

 _Are locker rooms always this loud?_

Kirishima makes a choked noise that seems close enough to laugh. Izuku diverts his attention away in favor of putting on his jacket and zipping it up.

Shouto's already putting his things away in his locker, and he makes quick eye contact with him to communicate that he was ready to go. Izuku picks the one right above his brother's for his own things.

Quickly tying up his shoes, Izuku's eyes strayed across the room. Kacchan picks the far end of the room to change. Izuku doesn't miss the fact it's the farthest distance away from himself.

The message is clear enough.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

After they change into their sportswear, they meet back up with the girls. Eraserhead is quick to herd them outside.

Izuku sticks to Shouto's side like glue throughout. He takes the moment they are all walking after their teacher to get acquainted with each of his classmates' heat signatures -not that there was much he could get acquainted with. Most of them were average, almost indistinguishable from each other save for minor variations due to size differences.

The only ones that stood out were Shouto, for how unique he was, and how well Izuku was acquainted with it. ANother was the six armed boy, for how oddly shaped his was compared to the rest due to the extra anatomy. A third one, curiously enough, was the boy with the avian head; while his body heat was at a normal temperature, it dipped oddly enough around his chest. The girl with the green hair and frog or toad Quirk had a lower temperature too, but across her body. Then there was the odd blond haired, purple eyed boy, whose midriff was just a few degrees higher than normal.

Lastly, was Kacchan.

As Izuku thought, the other boy had a higher heat signature than the average human. Not at his father's level and nowhere near Touya's scorching, nearly inhuman heat, but certainly enough to be noticable. Izuku silently commits the information lingering at the edge of the group -far away from himself- to memory, keeping his gaze forward to the back of Aizawa's head as the Pro-Hero leads them into a wide open area that seemed suitable for training.

With short, quick words, he has them spread out in front of him. It's about that time someone finally has the courage to speak up.

"Huh, sir?" Someone at the back of the group asks. It's the boy with the spiky red hair. A few heads turn to look at him, Izuku included, making his face almost as red as his hair. "Aren't...aren't we going to miss the orientation?"

Every head snaps back towards their teacher. Aizawa doesn't even take the time to consider.

"Yes."

The response is delivered with such bluntness even Izuku realizes something was off. To his left, the brown haired girl's shoulders slump and she makes a bummed out noise.

"...isn't...isn't it important though?" The brown haired girl at Izuku's side speaks up, voice wavering when a pair of tired red eyes pin her in place.

How the man managed to look so tired yet maintained some intimidating sense of intensity was beyond Izuku's knowledge. Unlike his classmates though, he doesn't feel that nervous. At least, about Eraserhead. In many ways, his strictness reminded him of his father.

And if there was one person outside of Shouto that Izuku knew how to appease, it was Endeavor.

"Depends how you look at it." Aizawa replies, reaching into his pockets and pulling out a phone. He scratches his chin with the other hand as he continues, tone apathetic. "Here in Yuuei, we aren't tethered to traditions. That means I get to run my class however I see fit. And I'm not one for big ceremonies. It's illogical."

Well, that was one way to say it.

His flat, uninterested delivery didn't surprise Izuku. From the wary glances his classmates didn't seem to share Izuku's beliefs, but they keep quiet. They've been here for less than twenty minutes and it was clear just how no-nonsense the man was.

"We'll start the assessment test. Bakugo." Izuku's eyes snap to the side where he sees his childhood friend step forward fearlessly. Kacchan has his hands in his pockets, shoulders back. Utterly nonchalant to the way every eye in a thirty meter radius locked on to him.

Izuku wished he had that kind of confidence.

"Ball throw. I'm sure you've done this before -this time, do it with your Quirk."

Aizawa points at a white circle drawn on the ground just a few feet away in front of the group. Kacchan is silent as he walks over it. His hand rises up lightning fast to catch the small, white ball Eraserhead pulls out of his pocket and tosses his way.

"You can do whatever, just stay in the circle." Aizawa calls after him, one hand in his pocket, the other one holding the phone.

Kacchan lets out a soft right that barely tickles Izuku's ears, looking down at the ball in his grasp. He turns towards the wide open area in front of him, gauging, his expression solemn and almost calculating….

-and then Kacchan then proceeds to fling the ball with all the grace of an enraged bear:

"DIE!"

 _ **BOOM.**_

Izuku's eyes fly wide as he feels his hair get yanked back from the wind force; the explosion Kacchan let out was giant, a far cry from the tiny sparks and pops from their childhood. Gravel flew around the students, and someone yelped as it got in their eyes.

Kacchan straightened from his throwing position. Despite his straight face, the blond was practically oozy smugness as he turns back to Aizawa. The Pro-Hero was looking at his phone now, unconcerned. Kacchan didn't seem that bothered by the lack of response.

After a long pause, Aizawa holds up his phone and utters:

"705.2 meters."

Izuku has to keep himself from gasping.

Woah.

Around him, the students starts muttering amongst themselves. Their disbelief is evident though some look excited at the prospect of letting their Quirks loose. Izuku was not part of that second category.

Aizawa's voice cuts right through that, instantly making them go quiet:

"This is how things will go. Today's all about knowing what your current limit is. That way, you'll have a greater grasp on your powers." Their teachers intone in a nearly bored manner. The way his eyes surveilled the crowd of students clashed with his physical demeanor greatly.

Izuku really doesn't like the way those scarlet eyes pause on him, holding him captive with just his gaze. He keeps his own expression as calm and blank as he can muster. Styxfire sparks furiously in his ribcage, reacting to his anxiety. It only stopped once when the Pro-Hero switches to another victim.

"You'll compete in eight different physical tests to assess your strengths and weaknesses, and find your limit."

 _Find your limit._

Izuku knew what that was. He knew his and maintained track of it near religiously. And eight physical tests? With his Quirk? Terrifying to do amongst other people but definitely something Izuku could do. It wasn't anything different from what Endeavor made them do.

Izuku breathed a little bit easier at that realization.

This didn't seem that hard, compared to what the Todoroki Patriarch's training sessions usually had in store.

"By the way," Aizawa delivers with all the grace and nonchalance of someone talking about the weather. "-not only will you compete against each other, you will be ranked. And whoever comes last will be sent home."

….oh.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Understandably, there's a bit of tension after that.

Student after student go through the ball throw test. They all try their best and their Quirks make Izuku's brain hurt from the urge to learn more about them, so much so it's almost painful having to keep his mouth shut.

He'd never had much issue refraining from mumbling until now.

For all the students' efforts, none of them come close to scratching Kacchan's results. The only one close enough is Yaoyorozou, whose Quirk somehow consist of her opening her shirt and assembling a small cannon out of the parts she materializes from her skin in a flurry of colorful lights.

It's so beautiful and unlike anything Izuku had ever seen. His fingers twitch at his side with the urge to write what he saw down. How did it work? How did she create such materials? What was the cost of using her Quirk?

"-Todoroki Izuku."

Izuku blinks, suddenly noticing the pair of tired red eyes looking at him -alongside nearly everyone else in his class. He nearly shrinks back from the amount of attention.

Wait, it was his turn already?

Stepping forward, he focuses his attention on Eraserhead. There was something about the way the man was looking at him that put Izuku at just the tiniest bit on edge. When he wordlessly extends a hand and gives him his ball, Izuku snatches it up with almost trembling hands.

He's not liking the sensation of twenty pairs of eyes on him. It's easier to focus on his teacher, but it doesn't negate the fact he was the center of attention.

It was quite a different way of being in the spotlight.

Izuku doesn't like this either, but just like all the times his father shoved him in front of him, he had to swallow the anxiety up and shut up. Eraserhead's staring wasn't helping though. If Izuku had to describe it, he would say there was anticipation in those eyes.

It's then that he suddenly realizes something.

 _He probably saw my Recommendation test._

Izuku swallows imperceptibly, clutching the ball tightly in his hands.

 _...that means he knows about Styxfire, too. At least some of it._

He steps into the circle, focusing on the problem ahead and leaving everything else at the back of his mind for future torment. He had a job to do -a task to complete, and if it was one thing Izuku learned to be good at, it was compartmentalizing his feelings in order to complete something.

There were many ways he could go through with the ball throw. If he shielded the ball -not in a cylinder to shoot like a canon but as a complete sphere and then threw it with his Quirk...there wouldn't need to be any worry about incinerating the ball…

He turns his head to look at his new teacher.

"Do I have to throw it as far as I can?" He asks quietly.

"This test is to assess your limit." Aizawa responds blandly, uninterested. "It's only logical."

There's a spark in his eyes that said otherwise. It's comforting, somehow. The man was expecting something out of him. Something more. Izuku just hoped he could deliver it.

"Alright." Izuku takes a breath, turning towards the open space and pulling his arms back. "I'll do it."

-and throws.

 _ **B O O M.**_

Styxfire screeches something horrible as it goes off like a bomb, an arch of white, purple and black flames bursting across his arms. It propelled the encased ball high into the sky; Izuku can barely track the trajectory of the projectile, so fast it moves.

It doesn't take long for it to reach the maximum reach of his Quirk. Izuku can only faintly sense the last of the casing dissipate and the ball goes on in its merry way. Not too long after, Izuku can't see it anymore.

Kacchan's had done similarly so he doesn't worry too much, turning his attention to his new homeroom teacher.

Aizawa's face remained unchanged. Izuku didn't know if it was a good thing or not, so he just stood there, waiting in silence. None of his classmates were speaking either. Silence reigned supreme as their teacher checked his phone.

After a full fifteen seconds, the man looks up at Izuku and intones flatly:

"975.3 meters."

Just like that, it starts again. Izuku nearly jumped out of his skin as some of his classmates cheered, for some inexplicable reason. The murmurs were no less terrifying.

"Holy shit!"

"How the fu-"

"Okay, I'm scared now."

Izuku fights off a grimace.

He knows exactly why that last comment was voiced out -the cause was right behind him. As he turns around, his heat sense already informs him of the damage wayward flames had caused and yet, even knowing what he was going to find, it's another thing to look at the stretching gap of darkened earth and melting sand-glass behind him.

Well.

….its less damage that Izuku had hoped, at the very least.

Aizawa doesn't seem to have anything to say about the giant hole Izuku punched in the earth, already looking at his phone again for the next student. Izuku takes his opportunity to scurry quickly to his brother's side. He tries to ignore the weight of Kacchan's gaze drilling on the side of his head.

It's almost baffling how he can tell its the other boy.

Some of the students say something to him as he passes by them, but its static compared to the white noise in his head. He just nods faintly and hurries up; getting back to Shouto took priority. As interested as Izuku was by the other teenagers, he was also very, very lost as to what to do with them.

It didn't seem as daunting back in class, when they'd all been pretty quiet and behaved….

Shouto barely acknowledges his return, but the faint bump from his left side against Izuku's shoulder is all he needs for comfort. Quickly enough the class seemed to be losing interest in him, the whispering dying off in favor of watching other students take the test.

Then it's the brown haired girl's turn.

"Uraraka Ochako!"

Izuku watches as she shyly walks forward at Aizawa's request. The Pro-Hero hands her the ball. Uraraka picks up the sphere and looks at it, biting her lower lip as she goes and assumes her position in the middle of the field.

Oddly enough, she's glancing up instead of forward.

She raises her other hand, hovering it over the ball. Izuku notices with curiosity how her finger pads were a pinkish color. Was that part of her Quirk -was that the location where it came out? What was it, exactly?

Uraraka stares down at the ball intensely. She was nervous, that Izuku could tell. She looks up, looking at the open blue sky, then back at the ball. Then, without further ado, she taps the ball with her other hand then tosses the ball in an upward arch. There's the faintest of pink sparks when her finger pads make contact with the ball.

It's not a hard throw; she doesn't put her entire body behind it, and Izuku winces as he looks at the ball. It wouldn't travel very far with such angle and force, did she get too nervous-

Wait.

Izuku blinks, squinting at the ball as it continues its upwards arch. It should be coming down now, barely five meters from Uraraka ...but its not. Far from that, actually.

Definitely, it just-

It keeps flying.

Floating.

Up.

And up,

And up.

Until two minutes later, its was nothing but a speck in the firmament. And then nothing at all.

Izuku waits with bated breath as Aizawa checks his phone, looks up, then checks the phone again and shrugs. Waits a bit more, then finally calls out gruffly:

"Infinity."

At the other side of the group, Kacchan makes a noise like a cat that got stepped on.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

They quickly move on from the ball throw.

Aizawa has them running through eight different physical tests for the assessment. After the ball throw there's a grip strength test, one that the six-armed boy, Shoji Mezo, wins easily. The cannon girl, Yaoyorozou Momo, comes second when she creates a machine to do it for her. Izuku snags her idea as well as third spot with a quick if not careful application of Styxfire that costs a lot more than he expected.

He'll have to work on that when he got home.

On the distance run Izuku doesn't even dare to use his Quirk for anything beyond short bursts that put him squarely in the middle of the flock, point wise. Flying required far more power than he was comfortable using: especially since while he had learned pretty well how to control Styxfire from licking at his clothes mid flight, he was still not able to contain the flames to burst solely backwards and not go all over the place behind him.

He'd rather not turn the entire track into a mixture of cooked earth and malformed glass, thank you.

Shouto had no issue using his ice for that, and Kacchan flies in a way that eerily reminds Izuku of his own application of Styxfire …except Kacchan was far more graceful and quick about it, what he lacked in power compared to Izuku making it up in precision and flexibility. It was fascinating to watch, and Izuku memorized it for his own training.

It was clear Kacchan hadn't just idled around after he left.

His grasp on Explosion was exceptional, and each new test made it all the more so. All of Izuku's classmates were exceptional in their own way, too, with their Quirks and how they applied them, but Izuku's gaze always came back to Kacchan.

Even if the other teenager was ignoring him.

An opportunity to talk -or at least, exchange _something-_ occurs for the fifty meter dash test, where they are paired to race against one another. Izuku trots to his half of the track; Kacchan was already there, ignoring him just like he'd had since the first time they saw each other in years, stretching his arms that without a doubt had to ache after the long distance run.

Izuku knew how hard propelling oneself was on the body, especially the shoulders. Biting his lower lip, he somehow musters up some ounce of courage from within himself. His voice is quiet but definitely loud enough for the other boy to hear:

"Kacchan-"

"Shut your mouth."

The response was immediate and sharper than a serrated knife. Izuku's mouth does so without further thought, instinctively snapping shut before he can even realize what he's doing. Mute, he watches as Kacchan takes position on his own track.

He barely gets in position himself when the little machine at the other end of the tracks shouts out cheerfully:

" _ **Start!"**_

Unprepared and upset as he was Izuku didn't do as well as he normally would. He loses a full two seconds after Kacchan's 4.13 seconds. The shame burns at him and he quickly resolves to leave that behind and focus on the tests.

Izuku knows he's not going to be last with the track record he'd had so far with the tests, but he wants to do his best too. And if that meant ignoring Kacchan like how Kacchan was ignoring him, well..

… he'll have to make due.

The rest of the tests go by quickly, now that he pushes worries about the other boy away. Side steps is as annoying as the first day when Izuku was seven and he learned what those were. Seated toe touch was as easy as breathing with his agility training and the sit up tests was nothing different from what he did nearly every day.

Soon enough, standing long jump was one of the last ones tests left.

Izuku is one of the last to go up.

Aizawa doesn't say a word after calling him up. Izuku spots his stare from the corner of his eye as he makes his way to the sandbox.

He's not sure how exactly the man was ranking them. It was clear in his speech that Eraserhead wanted to see their limit, but Izuku also believed that he was also adding points for their versatility in application of their abilities. He'd looked pretty interested when Yaoyorozou created her compression machine during the grip strength, and there had been a sparkle in those tired red eyes when Izuku imitated her technique in his own manner.

That could explain why there were multiple tests instead of a single grand one -it wasn't just to see the sheer power of their Quirk, its to see how they used it.

If he wanted to get a good number of points, he needed to be more versatile with his application.

Izuku looks back at the sand pit, eyeing the other side. He can feel the gaze of everyone in the class -Kacchan, Shouto, Aizawa- on his back as he takes a stand at the edge of the jumping pad.

Breathing in, Izuku cements his idea in his head and lifts his arms up, feeling familiar warmth curling within his flesh, spreading out through his veins. He memorized the length and width of the area he had to traverse, using the warmth of the sun pooling on the ground to gauge the distance with his heat sense.

Reassured, he opens his eyes and lets Styxfire free.

This time however, it wasn't in the form of fire.

He hears gasps from his classmates behind him as Styxfire weaves itself into a solid mass, threads of purple-black-silver stretching across the gap, filling out into a narrow bridge with railings.

Satisfied -if a little winded- Izuku lowers his arms and daintily hops up the stairs and starts walking across the tiny bridge. No one could see his face so for once he allows himself to smile.

"Whoohoo, that's awesome dude!"

If it wasn't for the railings Izuku created alongside his bridge, he would have tripped and fallen over into the sand from how high he jumps in the air.

He hopes Aizawa doesn't dock points for that.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Soon enough, it all comes to an end.

Groans and muttered curses ran rampant through the group as Aizawa herds them to the side. They gather at the edge of the training grounds, sweaty, exhausted, panting and very much yearning for water.

Shouto discretely shoves a tiny ice cube towards him and Izuku takes it gleefully, popping it in his mouth and letting it melt. Shouto had made the ice structure bubbly this time instead of a solid mass, allowing it to quickly break into easily consumable shards when Izuku presses his tongue against it.

That was one of Izuku's suggestions from a year and a half ago, when they discussed rescue techniques. It was one rare time where Izuku's brainstorming had brought fruit that their father approved of.

Aizawa gives them just enough mercy to let them rest in the shade while he points his phone at the building they were hiding against. A projection is cast on the wall from the device -it's a table of names and numbers.

 _Their_ names.

To his slight surprise, Izuku finds his own name squarely at the top, with Shouto snugly nested in second place.

Someone named Yaoyorozou took third.

Kacchan took the fourth spot.

Iida took fifth.

Someone named Tokoyami took sixth.

So on and so forth, until the last person, Kaminari Denki, took last position.

Izuku scans the crowd, discreetly trying to find whoever was this Kaminari Denki. Most of the students looked relieved, so it was easy for him to spot the electric blond looking like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

The redhead at his side was squeezing his shoulder in a weak attempt to comfort him. It did little to stop the growing pallor on his face.

Part of him was torn on the issue. If he wasn't a fit he wasn't a fit. Pro-Hero work was harsh and unforgiving and the weakest would fall behind. It was a brutal way to think about it and while part of Izuku hated thinking in such a way, he also understood the necessity of only the best getting through.

From what he learned of his father, it was normal that some students at Yuuei dropped out before their first semester was even completed anyways.

Still, this felt... _cruel_.

This was the first day, surely Aizawa couldn't be expecting perfection from them? Some of these students had only minimal Quirk training done at home, pitting them against each other like this?

It just didn't feel quite-

"By the way, it was a lie. No one's going home."

Izuku's brain freezes. Around him, the entirety of the class did pretty much the same, freezing in place from the sheer disbelief of Aizawa's declaration.

He clenches his hands, a mixture of surprise and relief swirling in his heart. Those feelings are pretty quickly replaced by apprehension when there's a sudden explosion of noise around him. The other students are yelling and its pandemonium.

Loud, uncomfortable pandemonium.

"Wait, are you serious!?"

"This isn't funny!"

"Is this like a hazing thing?!"

Kaminari lets out a loud series of sniffles. The redhead and another boy, a tall one with dark hair, move to pat his shoulders and head. It's uncomfortable to look at and it only cements the belief that this was a terrible thing in Izuku's heart. Terrible, but understandable.

Becoming a Pro-Hero was far from easy.

"It was just a logical ruse to get you to your limits. Plus Ultra." Eraserhead says it so flatly once they quieten, so uninterested in the class' crisis that Izuku nearly breaks out in a fit of tiny hysterical giggles from just how unbothered the Pro-Hero looked. "Next time, you will not get a pass."

The yellow haired boy, Kaminari, shudders and slumps back, defeated.

Izuku glances at him from the corner of his eyes, barely keeping himself from frowning with worry. His classmate was lucky today. Aizawa didn't seem like the kind of teacher to fool around; this mercy would not happen again, Izuku was sure.

Kaminari was just lucky, today.

Tomorrow might not be just as easy.

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

Their first day is over faster than Izuku expected.

Aizawa abandons them as soon as they're out of their sport uniforms, into their regular ones and sitting quietly back in class. They're all still sweaty and maybe a bit asleep on his feet. At least, some of them. Izuku feels perfectly fine; overheating was not something he was very familiar with, given Styxfire could simply absorb the excess temperature.

It's the cold, in truth, that was the danger.

None of his classmates dare make a peep when Aizawa looks at them.

"Take today as a taste of what's to come." He tells them. Standing in front of the class, unperturbed by the frazzled looks the students gave him, he continued on. "Yuuei and most importantly, my class has no place for those who prefer to take it easy. You'll have to bring your best every day if you wish to even pass this semester."

He pauses, surveilling them once again.

"That is all. You're dismissed."

And just like that he spins on his heels, picks up his bright yellow sleeping bag and leaves the class without further ado.

There's a visible relaxation of the tension in the room. Some of the students flat out collapse on the desks, laying their heads there and melting. Some stagger to their feet and blearily make their way to the door. A few start talking but it seems like not a lot of them have the strength or energy to socialize.

One individual though gets up immediately and heads for the door.

They're blond, they're quick, and as Izuku scrambles to pick up his backpack and dart after his target they are already almost down the hallway.

As soon as he's out of his seat Shouto is as well, and Izuku senses his brother following after him. He rushes into the hallway with a fast walk, dodging a student or two only to catch just the faintest glimpse of a familiar mop of blond hair disappearing around the corner.

Irritated, anxious and faintly terrified, Izuku turns his head towards his brother. Shouto's face was as calm and neutral as it ever was in public. Izuku knew better. The look in his mismatched eyes was dark and thoughtful, but lenient.

He was waiting for him to decide.

 _Want me to come with you?_

"Gates." Izuku whispers to his brother instead, and Shouto nods, understanding. At least, in his own way.

His brother breaks off, heading the other way while Izuku spins around and starts truly chasing after his childhood friend, barely keeping his pace below a full fledged run. There's a few heads that turn when he rushes down the hallway, backpack bouncing against his back with each quick, hurried step.

The stairways leading to the ground floor had no trace of Izuku's former friend, but Izuku hadn't lost track yet of that blob of heat amongst the river of other heat signatures. There's not enough students out and about yet for him to miss Kacchan. He's at the bottom of the stairs and quickly crossing through the main hall towards the front door of the main compound.

Already he's starting to get to the edge of Izuku's Quirk and that makes him panic.

He practically flies down the stairs, skipping steps as he hurries because he can't lose track of Kacchan, not yet, he has to talk to him at least today, at least a few words, anything to try to sort this tangled mess out between the two of them-

Izuku trips a bit as he reaches the bottom of the stairs, barely catching himself on the railing. A young girl with pink hair turns towards him as he accidentally bumps her shoulder, piercing yellow-gold eyes looking at him with a mixture of disinterest and confusion.

"Sorry!" Embarrassed, Izuku apologizes quickly before running past her, not even waiting for her reply.

When he's out of the staircase he finally catches a glimpse of that familiar blond mop of hair again. Kacchan was at the entrance door, speed walking down the steps towards the main gates of Yuuei. He was nearly out.

Unable to stop himself, Izuku yells after him:

"Kacchan!"

The teenager's shoulders instantly rise up defensively; his feet's rapid pace falters. He doesn't turn around but it's clear that he'd heard Izuku. It's more evidence to how much he doesn't want to deal with it and for a moment, Izuku considers giving up and letting him go along with his day.

But he quickly finds he just can't.

He can't let this go. He can't let those old memories of Kacchan go. He knows it's not his place, that he's being _selfish_ and intruding on someone who clearly did not want anything to do with him, someone who is not who he remembered him to be. A young teenager that had his own life and his own worries and Izuku finds it in himself that he can't care about that and use it to push those longing feelings away. Izuku knew there was no point trying to argue with himself.

He's a selfish little monster. And he just wants a part of that old Kacchan back.

He wants his friend back. Before the Quirks, before Todoroki Enji. He wants the warmth and happiness he remembers, even as old and fragmented the memories were.

 _I just need something good to happen. Please._

His feet carried him down the small staircase outside the main building. He's only feet away now from Kacchan. The closer he got the faster his heartbeat was and if he could only just _reach-_

Kacchan whips around.

" _What?!"_

Izuku flinches back on reflex, stomach dropping as a pair of furious red eyes look down at him. The sheer amount of venom in his voice has nausea gathering in his stomach. It's a rusty old knife digging carelessly into that swelling hope.

People were staring. Izuku did not care as much as he should. His nervousness for once did not rear its head anymore. It was tightly coiled in his heart, suffocated by something darker and more despairing.

Hesitating, he murmurs. "I want to talk-"

Those red eyes narrowed to slits.

"There's nothing to say, bastard." Kacchan retorts, tilting his chin up. "Run back home to _Endeavor_ for all I care. I'm not dealing with your shit unless we're in class, so you can screw right off."

"But-"

"Deku." Oh, it's been a long, long time since he's addressed by that name but it doesn't fail to make his mouth snapped shut. "Leave me alone. Just because you got a shiny fucking Quirk doesn't mean I'm not going to beat you into the ground." Kacchan finishes, his voice so full of promise that Izuku has no doubt he would follow through with that threat.

And even if he's stronger now, even if he's not Quirkless anymore, even if he could hurt Kacchan so easily with a thought - _no not a monster, not Touya_ \- Izuku never felt smaller and weaker.

He'd hoped that Kacchan let go of his anger from their childhood, that he'd held no grudge against him over the years. Now, it was evident that this was not the case.

Kacchan didn't just dislike him.

He _hated_ him.

And it was just another stab into the already gaping, infected wound in Izuku's heart, left there by the courtesy of his father.

"...why are you so angry?"

His question comes out more tired and dead than he'd even expected.

The bluntness seemed to catch Kacchan off guard, if the slight widening of those almond shaped eyes and clenched jaw was anything to go by. The blond adjust his grip on his backpack, hand pulled tight on the strap.

"Like that's any of your fucking business, nerd." He grits out, like even talking to Izuku was painful and that has his shoulders slumping. "I don't want to deal with you -the fact we are in the same goddamn class is annoying enough."

"Kacchan…"

"-don't fucking look at me and I won't make you regret it, got it rich boy?" Kacchan steamrolls over the weak call of that old nickname, unaffected. "Because you should watch it, Deku. I'm not going to let you get the best of me just because your daddy is in the top five."

Izuku can't bear to look at Kacchan anymore. It's painful. He looks down at his shoes, swallowing.

He'd never felt smaller.

"I understand."

He hears Kacchan move in front of him. Izuku slowly flicks his eyes up, only to find that his old childhood friend had turned his back to him. A single, baleful red eye stares over the blond's shoulder, peering at him like he's dirt at the bottom of its owner's shoe.

"I won't let you win, you hear me?" Kacchan throws his way, conviction so strong that it left Izuku feeling faintly nauseous. "Just watch me. Fuck you and that Quirk of yours, _I'm_ going to become the Number One Hero."

Izuku falters.

Kacchan seems satisfied with the look on his face, for he turns around and walks away, victorious, leaving him standing in the middle of the main entrance of Yuuei. Even if he wanted to try Izuku could not move, feet rooted to the ground.

There's a feeling in his throat, like he can't breathe.

Like that old, familiar noose was finally tightening up again.

 _Why did it always come back to that?_

* * *

 **Yeah, that was rough.**

 **I had many ways of writing this shit out, but I think this makes a great start for Katsuki and Izuku's reunion.**

 **r/sarcasm**

 **Izuku's not really catching a break, not even this early into the semester.**

 **Also let me be clear about one thing -there will be NO bakudeku as long as Katsuki is being a idiotic angry shit. Abusive relationships is not my style and while Katsuki is normally a somewhat sane person, there's a huge glaring spot in canon and here when it comes to Izuku. He holds a grudge better than an old man.**

 **Sheesh.**

 **Don't worry, he's going to get the Endeavor treatment. Aka, a few punches in the face. Izuku is going to have a nice time de-stressing in a chapter or so.**

 **Punching his ex-childhood friend in the face is best kinds of therapy.**

 **For the test, I kinda mixed up some things while keeping some as in canon. I couldn't see Izuku taking anything other than first place due to the sheer versatility of his Quirk and honestly Kaminari is a better fit for dead last than for example Mineta, who can bounce off his Quirk to complete some of the obstacles. That doesn't mean that Izuku is overpowered though; while here he's pretty strong, there's a VERY big difference between tests and actual living opponents. Not to mention that as soon as he starts running out of fuel -which he as to keep careful track- he's essentially fucked. His costume will only help a bit with that.**

 **And given Izuku's planet sized guilt complex, well, going up against a human and having to use his Quirk on them is gonna go swell. That trauma is totally not gonna bite him in the ass when he needs to use it most.**

 **Once again, 10/10 Aizawa is one of my favs to write even tho I dont have quite as much of handle on him than Endeavor or Toshi. Just love the fact that in this fic he actually is interested in Izuku and sees him as someone with potential. Meanwhile in canon Aizawa would rather deal with the USJ Nomu than have to work with the problem child and the gremlin.**

 **Next Chapter:**

 **Tall with glasses and round face make their entrance. Izuku's kind of confused and lost but he thinks things might be okay in the end.**


End file.
